More Than Yesterday, Less Than Tomorrow
by MidLifeCrisis
Summary: Logan meets someone who completely changes his life. Rated M for Language and adult sexuality. Complete. UNDER REVISION see INEXTRICABLE LINKS
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel.

Special Thanks to B.Nickerson for editing my very rough original, to my family for their encouragement, to Rhiannon, UK for her kind comments and encouragement.

This is a second posting. I removed the first after technical difficulties posting subsequent chapters. For those that read it the first time around, it's longer, with new segments included. Ok, I'm going to take hits on making Logan too soft or too human. Tough! It's my story. I'd be pleased to debate my reasons over e-mail. No matter what, I very much appreciate **all** feedback. Enjoy.

PROLOGUE

"Good morning, Princess, Happy Birthday."

A perky, blond, curly haired ten year old girl bounded into the small kitchen, pecked a kiss on her father's cheek and exclaimed "I'm ten, I'm ten! That's double digits, isn't it Daddy?"

"Yes it is and since it's such an _important_ birthday I've taken the morning off. We have six hours to do whatever you want."

"Really?" The girl thought for a few moments and said "Can we go riding?"

The man laughed. "Why did I know that's what you'd say, Sassy-Girl?"

"Yay! I get to riding with my Daddy!" The girl, imitating a horse, pranced around the kitchen table.

A woman emerged from a bedroom carrying a baby. "Susan, sit down and have your breakfast."

"Did you hear, Mommy? Daddy and me are going riding."

"Daddy and I…" the woman corrected. "That's fine," then, placing the baby into his father's lap, "hold Jason for me" she asked and began preparing toast.

The girl continued to prance around while her father tried in vain to balance his son, read the newspaper and sip coffee at the same time. The baby kept grabbing for the newspaper or the coffee cup. "Susan, make good use of all your energy. Take your brother and play with him over there." He pointed to an open space between a couch and a large bookcase.

The woman spoke. "Will, take this toast and some coffee to our long -suffering sentry"

The man grumbled "Aileen, how many times do I have to tell you, we don't have to feed and entertain security personnel."

"I know. But they work such long hours and put up with so much. It's just good manners."

"He's on _duty_." The man emphasized.

"And you don't stop for a lunch break?" The woman retorted. "Oh never mind! I'll take it to him myself."

Balancing toast and a cup of coffee on a plate, she walked crisply to the screen door and bumped it open with her hip. "Here you go Corporal…." She read his nametag "…Logan. How are you on this gorgeous day?"

"Thank you, ma'am," Logan replied with a polite smile.

"You're welcome. I do have a busy day planned. The major will be busy with our daughter, as I'm sure you've heard. I need you to drive me to the PX for some shopping."

"Yes ma'am."

The woman retreated back into the kitchen and sat down to her own breakfast and newspaper. The scene was quiet save for the squeals and giggles coming from the girl and baby playing peek-a-boo nearby.

The man scooted his chair back from the table and stood. Addressing his daughter, "Susan, I've got one little thing to do before we can go. You be ready in an hour, ok?"

"Ok, Daddy."

"Will…" the women spoke quietly to her husband "…don't get tied up and disappoint her."

He squeezed her shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry. It's not business. I've got to check on a little surprise for our birthday-girl." He briskly turned and left the house. The young corporal standing duty on the porch snapped to attention as the major went by.

Ten minutes later, Corporal Logan, still standing duty on the small front porch, sensed something very strange. Not exactly a sound, but more a rumble, a sensation that seemed to travel up from the ground and give him the weirdest buzz in his head. Suddenly everything began to shake and sway. Earthquake!

Inside the small house, glass crashed to the floor, the occupants screamed. Logan fought for balance, struggling to get into the house. "Everybody, under the table" he shouted to the terrified woman and children. Frozen with fear no one moved. Inside, Logan noticed the heavy bookcase teetering toward the two children. So did the woman, who screamed in panic.

Logan had only seconds to make a decision. Fighting against the swaying a bucking of the house, he used his own body to brace the massive falling bookcase. "Get 'em" he shouted to the woman who yanked the girl and baby out of the way.

CHAPTER ONE

Logan eyes snapped open. _What was that all about_, he thought? _Damn implanted_ _memories_. This dream was definitely different than the usual routine of waking up panicked, all claws extended. He glanced at the clock by his bed. It was only four thirty. _Might as well get up, alarm's goin' off soon. _ He sat up, stretched and popped his metal joints and yawned, not relishing the idea of another routine day of classes to teach.

What he didn't know was that after today, his definition of routine was going to irrevocably change.

"Go, go, go! Cross over-Shoot", Logan yelled to the squad of sweaty boys on the soccer field. The ball found its mark. "Way to go, guys. Practice over, hit the showers."

Hails of high fives and "all rights" spread among the winning team of mutant teenage boys. Logan trailed behind the pack. He noticed a white Jaguar drive by the practice field and into the circular drive in front of the mansion. It was an older Jag, sleek, classy and perfectly maintained. Out of the Jag stepped an attractive, petite, blond woman. She was as sleek and classy looking as the car she drove. Logan exhaled a nearly inaudible whistle. Only a few boys in the rear of group heard him, but they were too busy congratulating themselves over the winning goal to pay much attention.

Logan refocused on the boys. "All right, hurry up. You guys have another class in fifteen minutes. Anybody gets reported late does wind-sprints with me tomorrow" he yelled to them as he stepped into his small office nearby the gym.

The perfectly maintained blond stepped through the mansion door and into the cavernous foyer. "Is Professor Charles Xavier available" she asked a group of children milling about. Scott, in a nearby room, heard the inquiry and stepped out to help. He knew Xavier was expecting her. "Hi, I'm Scott Summers. Follow me this way. I know the Professor has been expecting you". He extended his hand and she shook it. "Oh, thanks. I'm Susan Harris".

Scott opened the double doors to Charles Xavier's office. He looked up and smiled warmly to her. "Susan, I'm so glad you came. Please sit down." He pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Scott exited quietly.

"Professor Xavier, it's wonderful to see you again." She shook his hand warmly. "I wish the circumstances were happier. I am so sorry to hear about Jean. It had to be a terrible loss for everyone."

"Thank you my dear. We are all coping with it as well as possible. She meant a lot to many here at the school. "Let me express my condolences to you..."

She cut him off. "I appreciate that. It's not necessary. I haven't seen or spoken to my father in twenty years. Our philosophies were..." She struggled for a diplomatic phrase "incompatible."

He nodded, folded his hands in his lap. "I understand." He cleared his throat and spoke again "As I spoke to you on the phone last week, I need a doctor here. Your reputation working with mutant children is quite well established..."

"Thank you. I thought very hard this past week about your proposal. After what happened here and to Jean, I felt I had no choice but to accept. I know I bear no responsibility to what happened, but I'll always regret it. I'd be pleased to your pediatrician."

"Splendid. I knew I could count on you."

"Professor, you do need to understand that I'll be here part time and part time at the hospital. I can't let the hospital go completely." she cautioned.

"Understood. Part-time is perfectly adequate, unless I could convince you to teach part time, too" he said jokingly.

She smiled, "Uh, no thanks."

"I know you will want to continue to study and publish research about mutant medical care... I have a state of the art laboratory, diagnostic center and computers on premise at your disposal. I may need you to conduct research for me or other faculty from time to time."

"What kind of research?" she inquired.

"Backgrounds, DNA registries. Some of the children and faculty have come from difficult circumstances. Two of your qualifications that caught my attention were your knowledge of DNA research and your connections. I know you will be able to help.'

"Anything in particular?"

"One of our Team, Logan, you'll meet him later, has recurring Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and amnesia. I've tried to help him using telepathy, but. I have only been marginally successful. I'm hoping that you will be able to use some of your DNA databases to discover something about him. Sometimes concrete evidence or facts can unlock memories." he added.

"I'll be happy to try"

"Splendid. Now how about a tour and meet some of the faculty and children."

"I was wondering when you were going to get to that, Professor." she answered enthusiastically.

Xavier showed Susan all over the mansion stopping from time to time to introduce groups of children to her.

"This is a lovely place…," she mused as the tour proceeded to a wing of the house that included a library and a music room "for a child to grow up in. It appears you've done all you can to make a warm home for the kids, Professor"

Xavier smiled "It can never take the place of a loving family, but it's the best that can be done. Now, I want to show you our medical facility." He pushed a button and a paneled wall portion slid aside revealing an elevator. They entered and descended. Deep below the school was a complete medical facility with state of the art radiological and nuclear scanning equipment, a small but complete ICU, surgical area and laboratory.

Susan could not hide her surprise. "This is some facility you have here. It's more than I was anticipating."

"Quite frankly, Susan, we don't often need this for the children. There is a suite of rooms above that was Jean's office and examining room. It's far less intimidating to the children."

Susan nodded and continued to follower Xavier.

Proceeding through a corridor, they entered a storage room with individual Plexiglas and metal cabinets. In each cabinet were the X-Team uniforms. In the center of the room was a conference table with computer monitors at each place. "I know you're aware that we're more than a school here. This secret underground facility is sort of "mission control" While I wouldn't expect you to join the X-Team, you need to know your way around and understand exactly what the team is about." Xavier's tone was serious as he proceeded to explain exactly the whys, what, where and who's of the X-team.

"There _will_ come a time when the team will need your medical expertise" he continued. "And I can't promise I won't need you for missions, but it would be the rarity, I hope"

"Without any mutant abilities, I'm concerned that I 'd be a hindrance to the team" she replied.

They continued down another corridor. Stopping just in front of a steel door, he warned her to be still for a moment and positioned himself just so. In a matter of seconds, his retina was scanned and the door slid back, revealing a cavernous room. A catwalk projected into the room. At the end of the catwalk was a complicated looking console. "This is Cerebro" he explained. This is where I'm able to keep track of mutants all over the world. This is what your father was after." He had to struggle to keep his very strong negative feelings for William Stryker from being revealed in his tone of voice. Going after Cerebro was one thing, but kidnapping six children, well that was beyond all reason. Add to the mix what William had done to his own son and Charles Xavier felt he truly hated the man. Hate was emotion that he had spent most of his life trying to combat.

Susan exhaled deeply. "There is so much I didn't know about my father." There was a sad, faraway look on her face

Xavier listened to her words. He was a bit unsure of exactly what she knew of her father's anti-mutant activities. He sensed in her only what could have been known from knowledge gleaned from popular media. He also sensed a deep sadness that stemmed from something deeper than he cared to explore without her consent. "Let's go back up to the school. Classes are nearly done and I want you to meet the staff" he said

They proceeded back to Xavier's conference room adjoining his office. Scott, Storm, Kurt, Electra and Victor were waiting in his office, having been forewarned of being introduced to Susan. Only Logan was missing. "Where is Logan?" Xavier asked no one in particular.

"He's in the gym with some of the boys." Electra offered.

Xavier wanted to be irritated, but held the feeling in check. Logan definitely had his own timetable, but he was proving to be very devoted to the kids in the capacity of coach and counselor. His priorities were correct even if he didn't keep track of the time. "Everyone, this is Dr. Susan Harris. She's graciously agreed to come aboard as our new Pediatrician and Team Physician" Xavier said proudly. "Her qualifications are impeccable"

Xavier turned to Susan and began to introduce the staff. "This is Electra and Victor Marquez. Electra teaches humanities, literature and Spanish. She's also our physician's assistant. Victor's our pilot and mechanical engineer - that is to say he runs the school" Electra was medium build, Hispanic woman. She had short cropped hair and almost Mayan features and a warm, friendly demeanor. Susan instantly liked her. Victor was much taller than his wife, he looked more Anglo than Electra and he was a shy sort. Susan extended her hand.

Electra warmly clasped it and spoke a greeting in Spanish. "I'm so glad to meet you."

Susan replied back in Spanish and then added in English, "... I 'm embarrassed that my Spanish is rusty. I haven't been back to my home in Texas for a long time."

Electra laughed. "Don't be. It's muy bueno. Victor and I come from Corpus Christi and Harlingen. Where do you come from?" she asked in Spanish.

"I grew up on a ranch near Eagle Mountain Lake." Susan answered, allowing herself to revert to her Texan drawl.

Electra smiled broadly and said jokingly, "Finally an ally. I have been feeling out of place among all of these Yankees."

"Ororo Monroe" the professor continued "is our Geography, Social Studies and girls PE teacher. She also co- pilots the jet."

Susan smiled broadly. "So glad to meet you, Ororo."

"Call me Storm" Ororo said, extending her hand.

Xavier introduced Kurt Wagner to Susan. She was briefly startled by his appearance. Kurt sensed this and briefly gave her a run down of himself. She was touched by his gentleness and honesty. She shared with him that she was Catholic, though she did add that she leaned toward the liberal as opposed to his traditional leanings.

"Last, but not at all least," Xavier said "Scott Summers, whom you met earlier. Scott is the X-team leader and mathematics teacher."

Susan's demeanor softened and became serious as she turned to Scott. "I remember meeting you once when Jean and I attended a conference. You brought her there. "She moved to give Scott an embrace "I am so sorry about Jean."

Scott accepted her embrace. He nodded to acknowledge Susan's condolences and sympathies. The wound to his heart was still fresh after Jeans death. "Thank you" he replied his voice choking up.

There was moment of awkward stillness until Xavier broke it. "If you will excuse us now, I need to go over some details with our new doctor."

There were positive nods as Scott, Storm, Kurt and the Marquez's filed out of the room. Just as they were leaving, Logan finally made his appearance.

"Hey Logan, we don't set the clocks to daylight savings for a few weeks yet." Scott needled him for his late appearance.

Logan sneered, "Hey One-Eye, you can stuff it where the sun don't shine."

Xavier ignored the small exchange between the two. He knew Logan had been tied up with helping a few of the younger boys with their soccer skills. "Logan, please come in. Meet Dr. Susan Harris."

"Hi." he said to Susan, irritation still in his voice from his exchange with Scott.

Logan was hardwired to be leery of unknowns. His first approach to anything or anyone new was to keep a distance and above all, keep control. Sarcasm and a hard-edged attitude helped him maintain that distance.

Susan made a quick study of the man standing before her. Tall- six three, give or take, broad shoulders, nicely shaped biceps, flat, tight stomach and narrow hips nicely accented by sweat pants. She wished a view of his backside, which she was sure, would match the rest of the package. He was definitely her definition of perfect masculinity. _Hello, baby_ she thought to herself. She looked directly into his eyes, willed herself not to blush and extended her hand to him.

He didn't usually like to shake hands with anyone, but he felt compelled to return her gesture. He looked her up and down and then locked with hers as he clasped her very soft, delicate, warm hand. There was something vaguely familiar about her. He caught her scent, feminine, clean, enticing, but not familiar. Once someone's scent was programmed in his brain, he never forgot it. He'd thought her attractive in the distance when he'd seen her arrive, but he wasn't prepared for the effect she was having on him.

Their eyes remained locked. The handshake lingered as Xavier continued to speak, "She has agreed to become our Team physician and pediatrician. She is one of the foremost if not the foremost expert on mutant medical care. Susan, this is Logan, he handles security and is our boys PE coach".

Susan blushed anyway, unsure whether it was Logan or the Xavier's compliment. Xavier sensed the electricity between Logan and Susan. "I'm pleased to meet you" she said to Logan.

Logan began to feel awkward. He couldn't think of anything to say and was grateful that Xavier continued speaking, "Susan has access to the most comprehensive DNA databases in the world. I've asked her to help research your background. I hope you don't find that objectionable?"

Logan shrugged "You won't mind if I don't hold my breath." He was skeptical and self-protective his past and every time he thought he might get some answers, he ended up with just more questions and nightmares. "How's what she's got going to do be any better than what we've tried before?" Logan asked Xavier.

Susan answered. "There's a DNA typing that is very complicated, expensive and generally inaccessible. What the typing does is isolate Mitochondrial DNA that is only passed on from maternal relatives..."

"In English" Logan snapped

"Oh, ok. Basically, I may be able to discover who your mother is from this test."

Logan rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah, right."

"You asked me to simplify it" she shot back. "Realistically, isolating the DNA strand is the easier part. The time consuming part is coming up with the match."

"Yeah... and what if you don't come up with a match?" he questioned sarcastically.

"I'll come up with someone, Logan. What I can't guarantee is if that someone is living or not."

Xavier asserted himself. "Logan, what Susan can offer is concrete evidence of who you are. Depending on what you choose to do with the information, it may help you to restore your memories. I certainly haven't been able to help you."

Logan's mind reeled for a moment. He didn't want to invest too much hope and yet he desperately needed to know about his past. Maybe if he did finally know, the nightmares, flashbacks and rages would go away once and for all. On the other hand, what if knowing made it all worse? "Okay. What's involved in this DNA typing?"

"I just need a blood sample", Susan answered

He grimaced. "Oh yeah, it's always a blood sample"

Wanting to lighten the mood, Susan retorted "Oh, puleeezze! Don't tell me you freak out over having your blood drawn."

Not wanting to discuss it any longer and thinking this might be a good time to make his exit, Logan edged toward the door. "Just tell me when and where and I'll be there. Nice meetin' ya. See ya around" and he slipped out of the room.

When she was sure Logan was out of earshot, Susan spoke to Xavier. "There's a lot to his story, isn't there?"

Xavier nodded. "I'll brief you on everything I know. You, of course, will want to peruse all of the medical files we have on Logan. But, I think we need to attend to the last order of business."

"Oh, yes, the paperwork" Susan smiled.

Contracts signed and copies made, Xavier warmly shook Susan's hand. "One more thing" he said "If you will follow me, I thought you might care to see your office. I hope you find this satisfactory," he said when they arrived. "If there is anything you need, it can be arranged."

Situated at the end of the west wing of the mansion, her office and clinic was spacious and elegantly appointed. Double doors opened to an area that was occupied by an oversized beige couch. A pair of low end tables flanked each end of the couch and a matching coffee table stood a few feet in front. In front of the couch was a massive marble fireplace. Glass paned French doors banked each side of the fireplace. Off to the left, lining an entire wall were built-in bookcases, computer workstation and file cabinets. Centered in front of those was an impressive executive style desk. To the right were three partitioned exam rooms and a passageway that led to a bathroom and an elevator that led directly to the below- ground med-lab.

"Professor, this is great, perfect. I could get spoiled here compared to my office at the hospital" Susan beamed. "About the only thing missing is pictures of my kids and I think I can supply that"

"Splendid. You'll let me know when you want to move your personal effects in and I'll arrange for assistance." Xavier said.

"I'm not on call this weekend..." Susan answered as her cell phone chimed. "Excuse me, professor" she said checking the caller ID, it was her fifteen year old.

"Hey, kiddo, I'm still in a meeting. Can I call you back in a few? .Oh, ok. I'm glad you reminded me. What time do I have to be there?"...she looked at her watch, "Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can. Love you." She turned her attention back to Xavier. "As I was saying, I'm not on call this weekend and I'll be able to draft my kids, so how about Saturday afternoon?"

"That'll be fine. I'll ask Victor and Logan to make themselves available. Now, it appears to me that you have another obligation."

"Yes, my son Matthew is performing in a school concert. So, I'm off to do the mommy-thing and I've got to hurry."

Xavier nodded in understanding. "Then I'll not keep you any longer" he said leading the way back to the foyer of the mansion. They said their goodbyes and Susan hopped into the Jag and sped off.

On the drive, Susan churned the past few hours around in her mind. She called to mind the people she met. She sensed in Electra the makings of a good friend. She and Electra were nearly the same age and their mutual connections to Texas were a good starting point. She wondered why Scott was the team leader. On first impression, she would have guessed Victor or Logan. Scott seemed so young. Kurt, however, was a fascination. Medically speaking, he was going to be very interesting and probably a challenge if he ever required treatment.

_What is the scoop on Logan_, she thought as she drove through the rush-hour filled streets? He didn't fit the image of anybody you'd expect to see around a private school or most of the other places Susan frequented. He had strong aura of confidence, no brashness. _Kind of rough and restless_, she thought. He was _the_ definition of tall, dark and handsome and had gorgeous, smoldering, expressive eyes. The eyes always got to her. She remembered his piercing gaze when they met just a short while ago, sort of like he was trying to read her soul. _Yeah, right!_ That was definitely not what he was doing when he looked her up and down. She sighed. She should have been offended, even angry. Instead she found it titillating and she couldn't honestly say her imagination didn't work a little overtime when she first saw him.

CHAPTER TWO

It was about 10:30 p.m., and an unusually warm evening for March. Logan, fresh from a shower and clad in running shorts, lay stretched across his bed, arms crossed behind his head. The TV across the room played the Stanley Cup playoffs, gone into overtime now. He was half-concentrating on the game, his mind wandering to the beauty with the white Jaguar. Having spent a good part of the day helping her get her office settled, she'd left a distinct and positive impression on him. Actually, he couldn't get her off his mind. He still felt like he knew her from some other time or place, but he couldn't figure it out. He'd been attracted to her when they first met a few days ago, but he'd dismissed his feelings thinking himself out of her league. Saturday changed that impression.

She came across as class-act with all the trappings. Her house located in an exclusive section of Westchester bespoke classic elegance, comfort and old money. It wasn't a museum though, it was a lived in home with dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, discarded sneakers in doorways, a laundry basket on the stairs waiting for its owner to claim it, family photographs all over the place and two cats lounging on a sectional sofa looking thoroughly disgusted at having their Saturday morning nap disturbed by strangers. Two blond, wavy haired teenage boys lay draped over the couch trying to wake up. A foot on coffee tables was not a problem in this house, or at least not the family room. Clearly, it was an easy, happy place reflecting Susan's joyful and down-to-earth way. An observant person could tell who and what was important to her just by being in her home.

She also had an easy style of conversing and joking and had treated him and Victor like they had been friends for years. While they packed up the things she was moving over to the School, she shared many tidbits about her life. Later, over pizza and beer after the move, he had been intrigued by her sense of humor, her endearing way of making eye contact and touching his arm whenever she spoke. She had repeated these gestures with Victor and Electra, which bothered him at first until he realized this was her way of expressing interest and openness. He wanted very much to get to know more of her. Thinking about her, remembering her scent, her gestures and touches, stirred him. It was more than physical. Instinctively, he felt comfortable around her. He felt like he could trust her. _What was it about her? How could she get to him so fast?_ He clicked off the TV exhaled deeply and drifted to sleep. For a rare change, he had no nightmares.

Late Sunday afternoon after having sent Matthew and Travis back to their Dad's, Susan headed over to the school, She wanted to take a few hours to begin familiarizing herself with medical histories of the children and the X-Team. She checked in with Xavier, who was playing chess with a young student and not to interrupt, just motioned she was going to her office. Electra met her there. Not only did Susan want to read as many charts as possible, she wanted Electra's personal assessment of everyone. And, she wanted to size up her new assistant.

They started with the X-Team members. As Susan pulled up each member's charts on her computer, Electra gave her plenty of interesting back stories. She shared with Susan that she and Victor had been X-Team members and then retired only to be called back by Xavier after Jean's death. Susan noted Electra and Victor's contrasting abilities. Electra, as her name illustrated was capable of generating huge amounts of electricity and doing any number of things with it. Victor had the ability to breathe under water and if observed closely, had webbing between his fingers and toes.

They read through Scott's records, Electra explaining how he had been abused as a child and left in an orphanage. Then it became law to begin testing for the X-factor, children in state custody were being singled out and shipped to "special facilities". Charles Xavier had rescued Scott, Jean and Storm at the same time. They'd been among his first students. That was when Electra and Victor had been hired by Xavier as caregivers and teachers for the children. Electra shared that she and Victor had been unable to have children and Xavier's offer was a dream come true for them.

Logan's file was up next. Reading the documentation of his mutant abilities Susan commented to Electra that "compared to some of the others, his abilities weren't all that spectacular", then exclaimed "Good God!" when she read about his adamantium skeleton. She knew that something like this was not something he'd been born with. Electra filled her in. Logan had only been around for about eighteen months, having been rescued along with Rogue from Eric Lensherr. He had no memory of his past and Xavier had been trying to help him recover his memories. Electra also told Susan that Logan and Scott didn't get along because they had been in competition over Jean. Despite most of the X-Teams reservations about him, he has become a valuable asset.

Electra said she and Victor liked Logan. She thought of him as another one of her troubled "adopted" sons. The two of them had formed a friendship with him and they often socialized together and that Logan and Victor often got into mischief together.

Susan questioned her on that. Electra replied, with a twinkle in her eye, that they were both alike, both had some rough times in their younger days and that much to Electra's irritation, liked to go out to drink and carouse and commiserate about their past.

Electra, and especially Victor, had been able to get Logan to open up to them once in a while and she knew he'd suffered significant trauma in his life. Electra had some training in psychiatric nursing and she was certain that some of his amnesia was due to the past traumas. Getting him to open up, however, took large amounts of alcohol and just the right setting, usually at their house on a Saturday night over barbeque and cards or billiards. His memory loss was more complicated that just situational amnesia. Some of his "memories" may have been artificially implanted in his mind. Then there were the vivid, violent nightmares and insomnia, oh, and finally, a tendency to react with deadly force when threatened or injured. He could be impulsive, brusque, egocentric and stubborn. But, he has a good heart and a strong sense of fairness and right and wrong. He's good with the kids. When he takes on a responsibility, he seems to take it very seriously. He could also be incredibly brave and selfless. She shared with Susan how he had nearly killed himself saving Rogue from Magneto at Liberty Island.

"Sounds like classic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and maybe a bit of Borderline Personality Disorder." Susan commented.

Electra nodded in agreement "Throw in a tendency for depression, too. His skeleton and claws cause him physical pain and..."

"Whoa! Back up. "Susan said "What claws?"

"Scroll forward to the CT scans of his forearms…"

"Oh my God" Susan exclaimed, looking at the scan.

"Every time those claws come out, it causes pain" Electra continued.

"How did this happen to him?" Susan asked

"The most he'll say is that he'd been experimented on. Most of the nightmares he has to this day revolve around whatever those experiments were. Charles had tried to help him telepathically and I know he found out something at Alkali Lake, but he's made it very clear that the subject's not open for discussion".

"It's a wonder he not a complete head-case." Susan said.

"From what I gather, he was at one time. I'll tell you, Dr. Harris, you'll be able to get a lot more from Charles... and Logan, if he'll talk to you."

"Since the Professor has assigned me the task of helping him trace his past through DNA data, I hope he will. By the way, it's Susan to you." she said with a smile. "Think it will be hard to getting Logan to talk with me?"

"Depends on how you approach it. Run the tests. Let the results speak for themselves. Logan desperately wants to find out about himself. If he feels like he can trust you, he will."

"I hope so." Susan glanced at the time. "Hey, I've ruined too much of your Sunday afternoon. Get out of here. Go home to your husband. I'm going to finish up and go home to my cats."

"Ok. You'll be here on Tuesday's and Thursday's then?"

"And every other Friday afternoon" Susan added

"It's going to be great having you here, Dr. H…Susan." Electra stated before she left.

Susan smiled warmly. "Thanks. I'm really looking forward to being here."

It was getting late and before she knew it, the mansion was quiet except for the hum of her computer. She stood up to stretch and move around her office. Nearing her open door, she heard a piano playing softly in the nearby music room and needing a break, she strolled quietly down the hall.

The music room was dark save for a dimmed chandelier over the piano. She stood silently in the doorway listening. It was Moonlight Serenade and it was Logan playing and playing well. _This guy is full of surprises, _she thought.

Logan sensing a presence, stopped, sniffed the air and glanced around to see who was there.

"That's lovely, don't stop" she said.

Embarrassed, he pushed away from the piano and stood. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I, um, just fool around once in a while when I can't sleep."

"No bother. It sounded nice. I needed a break; anyway" she said gently "I didn't know you played."

He shrugged.

"Will you finish it? I love Moonlight Serenade", and she strolled closer to the piano.

"I don't know if I remember it all" he said as he sat on the bench and began to play again.

Susan stood just a bit in front of him, leaning on the piano. She watched his face, tranquil and handsome; his fingers playing gracefully over the keys. After just being briefed by Electra on all of this guy's issues, she never would have expected this from him. He was complicated and she liked complicated men. She decided right at that moment, regardless of Xavier's assigning her with doing his background research she wanted to get to know him better.

The song ended. "You have talent" she said smiling. "Did you ever study music?"

He looked up, his eyes locking with hers. _Does he always have to look at me like that, _she thought.

"Maybe a long time ago in another life." His voice had a tone of melancholy. "I used to play around with a guitar, but that got blown to hell with my truck. Haven't bought another guitar and this is here," he gestured to the piano. "I just sat down one night and played it."

"Only this song?' she asked.

"I know some bits and pieces of others. I'm not even sure of the titles."

He began to play another, flawlessly.

"You better be careful Logan. If Charles hears you, he might assign you the duty of music teacher." she told him.

"There's a scary thought." he laughed. "Besides you're the one who said they studied piano and voice- what in high school?"

She was surprised he remembered her ramblings from Saturday afternoon.

"Come here" he patted the bench beside him "You play something."

Blushing, Susan replied. "No way!" I haven't practiced in way too long..."

"Come on. You're not afraid of a little thing like not practicing" he teased, alluding to her past comment about his being scared of having his blood drawn. The comment was not lost on her.

"Fine" she huffed in mock irritation and sat next to him. She grinned slyly and plunked out chopsticks and then a simple version of Three Blind Mice. She was messing around on purpose.

"Hey, I'm impressed" he said playing along. "I'll bet you even know this one" and played out harmony to Heart and Soul.

Susan laughed out loud and nudged his shoulder. Then as she played the melody portion, both were laughing and mangling the music. When they finished the piece he put his arm around her waist, nuzzled her hair, imprinting her scent on his psyche. She gave him a raised eyebrow and his brown eyes smiled into hers. She melted. She couldn't make herself move away from him, but couldn't yield to him either. "Ok, give me some space here and I will play something for you."

Logan took his arm from around her and moved over a bit on the bench.

"Nah-aah. I really do need some room here" she said, gave him a gentle push and motioned him to where she had been standing a few minutes ago. Then she played Canon in D.

The beauty of that song always transfixed Logan. Music had always been something soothing to but he kept his love for it and his talent secret. Music had been something that his torturers had not stripped from his mind and in the weeks and months after his escape from Alkali Lake music had played a part in his eventual recovery from insanity. He'd stolen a guitar, along with everything else he needed to survive from empty vacation villas in the mountains around Alkali Lake. He played that guitar to pass time, ease loneliness and calm himself after those damned nightmares.

When she finished playing, she stood abruptly, walked over to him, placed her hand on his arm and said, "Ok. I've proven I'm not scared of a little no practicing. I expect to see you in my office on Tuesday so I can draw those blood samples. Deal?"

"Yes ma'am" he said as he gave her a playful salute.

She headed out of the music room, "It's late, I've got a full schedule tomorrow so I'm going home. See ya later."

Logan trailed after her. He didn't want her to leave this soon. "I'll walk you to your car."

Hoping he would do just that, Susan motioned him along as he returned to her office. Neither said much as she shut down her computer, but both were acutely aware of each other. She felt his eyes on her as she tidied up her desk and couldn't decide whether she wanted him to make a move or not. She debated making a move on him but decided nothing.

Outside when they reached her car and she made to say Goodbye, Logan made his move. Slipping his arm around her waist, he drew her to him and brushed his lips against hers. He felt her body jerk against his whether in protest or invitation, he wasn't sure, but he was going to find out. Pulling her closer, he kissed her more urgently. Her lips parted. He tasted her. Her scent, feminine and natural, stirred him.

She melted against his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with equal fervor. Heat rose in her as his hands smoothed along her back and she ran her hands through his dark, wavy hair, pressing her body closer.

Headlights coming up the driveway brought Susan back to reality. Holding his face between her hands she took a small step back. "I can't do this right now," she said, her voice trembling.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice husky and low, eyes bright with desire.

Susan shook her head. Her heart pounded and she was sure he felt it. "It's complicated. This is too fast, too soon. I don't even know you." What she wouldn't verbalize was that she was losing her nerve, scared of the sudden strong feelings she felt. Her hand lingered on his face a moment longer, then she got into the Jag and drove off.

Logan watched her drive off until the taillights disappeared from his sight, then shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and heaved a deep exhale. He hoped he hadn't scared her off. He cursed his own lack of restraint and he was grateful for hers. He vowed to himself to slow it down. All he really knew was when he wanted something, he went for it but she wasn't going to play it out that way. For the first time in a long time, he was willing to invest the time and effort to win a woman. He didn't even understand why. He'd reacted by instinct for so many years he wasn't even sure he knew how to court one.

A brief memory of his last encounter with Jean flashed across his mind and she'd told him, _You flirt with the dangerous one's but you don't take them home... you don't marry them._ He'd been willing change for Jean, but never got the chance. He vowed he wouldn't miss the chance with this one.

Susan was still trembling from his kiss as she drove down the dark road. She felt confusion, anger and delight all at once and was angry at herself for getting into that situation. Flustered, she talked out loud. _ "You didn't have to go there, dummy. You should have just gone to the car by yourself. No, you should have put the brakes on sitting at that piano with him then the whole car thing wouldn't have happened._

_The nerve of that guy_, she fumed to herself. _Who does he think I am? I should have decked him. _Then she shook her head to try to clear the memory of him from her mind, but it didn't work. She could still taste his kiss, feel his strong arms around her, his hands exploring her body. She remembered the feel of his lean, muscular body as she melted into him. _Oh boy, I'm in deep already_, she sighed_. Thank God that car came along when it did. I would've had to deck him or go along with_ _it_. She giggled as the mental image of both scenarios played in her head. _What am I gonna do now? Oh, for crying out loud, Sue, get hold of yourself. You're gonna control the situation. What does he really want? Hello, stupid. You know exactly what he wants_. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. _This could be really great or this could be a really painful, complicated mess. _

_Do I want this – him,_ she wondered? She chewed on her lip and made a face. Her common sense said _NO_. The desire she felt said _YES_. She decided to settle for maybe- but on her terms and timetable. She pulled her car into her garage, went into her quiet house and settled in for the night with a glass of wine, a bubble bath and her two cats for conversation. No matter, the relaxing bubble bath did nothing to clear him from her thoughts. If anything the sensual bubbles stirred her imagination even more. _Get control girl, stop being a sucker for a handsome face. _All night she dreamt of his kiss and more.

The part she didn't know, couldn't know was Logan's restless night dreaming of her, but afraid that he lost before the game even got started.

CHAPTER THREE

It was a busy Monday at the clinic for Susan. All before lunch she had seen six cases of strep throat, admitted a two year old with gastroenteritis and dehydration and examined God only knew how many kids with stuffy noses and coughs. Thank God for no major traumas. When lunch rolled around, she was glad for a chance to sit down and catch her breath. Paula Wellburn, another pediatrician who shared an office with Susan breezed in.

"Is it a full moon or what?" Paula asked

"Oh yeah. Monday and a full moon." Susan agreed. "What are we doing for lunch?"

"Chinese? No, we did that Thursday. Mexican?"

"Too fattening. I feel like salad. Besides, we are supposed to be keeping each other on track when it comes to the fattening junk."

"You're no fun, Dr. Harris."

"I know it. Let's go. I gotta tell you about something." They stripped off their lab coats, grabbed their purses and headed to Susan's car.

Paula had known Susan for a long time and she immediately knew what she was saying.

"You gotta tell me about someONE." she corrected her friend.

"Oh, alright. You know me too well." Susan started up the car. "Anyway, you know that I'm part time at this school over in Westchester?" Paula nodded. "I went over there Wednesday to get oriented and all that."

"Yeah, I know. I covered for you."

"And I thank you. So, I'm introduced to the staff at the school and the PA, and..."

"Too much back story, Sue. Get to the point."

"I will. You know how I babble. The last person I'm introduced to is this guy named Logan. Oh, my God, Paula. The guy is drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, you know how the nurses give us the Ten-Alert? Well, let me tell ya, this guy is a Ten-plus."

"Ok. So you were introduced to a hunk? Give me some statistics here."

"About six-three, lean and built. Nice derriere." She drew out the word nice "Dark brown, wavy hair, kind of long, but not too long. Brown, expressive eyes that you could get lost in..."

"How old?'

"I don't know. I didn't ask..." Paula looked at Susan with a quit-holding-back grin.

"Younger" Susan added sheepishly.

"I thought so. As soon as you rated his derriere, I knew you weren't talking over forty.

How much younger?"

"Well, he doesn't look over forty."

"Quit stalling."

"What does it matter?" Susan grinned

"Don't tell me he's under thirty?"

"Oh no way. What do you think I am? Mrs. Robinson? He looks about mid-thirties."

"Oh yeah, mid-thirties. Just enough life experience to be interesting and still has lots of energy." Paula giggled. "Ok. So you have been introduced to mister young, tall, dark and handsome. This needs to go somewhere besides just an intro."

"Hush, it does get better. So, Saturday Logan and another guy from the school help me move some stuff to my office over at the school. And then Sunday I spent the afternoon and evening reviewing charts. So, I'm sitting in my office, it's probably 10-ish. I hear piano music coming from the room down from my office."

Paula looked confused. "What is this place, where you have a music room near your office?"

"This school, Xavier's School for the Gifted, it's a mansion. You've driven by it, I know you have. My place isn't too far from it."

"Oh, yeah. I think I know the place. Keep talking."

"So, I go down the hall to this really exquisite music room. It's got a fantastic antique Steinway and who do you think is...?"

"I can't possibly guess." Paula said sarcastically

"Do you want to hear this?"

"Of course I do. You are just funny sometimes the way you do details."

Susan stuck her tongue out. "Any way, it's Logan, playing really well. I wouldn't have pegged him for the musical type. So, we start conversing back and forth and he dares me to play something. We get a little duet going and he puts his arm around me."

"Susan, all this lead-up and he just puts his arm around you?"

"There's more. Just listen. Then he walks me to my car. When we get to my car, he grabs me around the waist and gives me this kiss. Well, the first kiss was..."

Paula pretended to be appalled, "Come again? The first kiss?"

"The first kiss was more like just a brush on the lips. I probably should have smacked him silly right then, but the second kiss was shall we say, _awfully_ friendly. He's got them explorer hands, too," her Texas twang coming out.

Both women laughed then ceased the conversation for a few moments as they went into the restaurant and sat down. "Oooh, girl. You got it bad for this one. What are you going to do?" Paula inquired of her friend.

"No, I don't."

"I'm raising the B.S. flag, Sue. You wouldn't be telling me about this if you didn't"

"I know. I don't know what I'm going to do. Play devils' advocate for me Paula. Tell me all the reasons that I should tell this guy to take a hike."

Over their salads, Paula ran down all the negatives she could think of. They both debated certain points and Susan could agree with about ninety percent of the negatives. On the way back to the office, Susan told Paula that while the ninety percent negatives scared her, the ten percent positives were worth taking a chance. Susan looked at her best girlfriend with deep searching and said, "I know it's definitely lust at first sight, but I swear there is something more. Something tells me to play this one out."

Paula said to her with sisterly tenderness "Be careful, girlfriend. I remember the mess you were when your plastic surgeon from Miami dumped you."

"Oh Lord, Paula, that was such a mess, besides Christian was so different. The situation was different. "

"Susan, that's what they all say" Paula looked at her friend with all seriousness "Just guard your heart. You really don't know squat about this guy."

They were both quiet and reflective on the elevator back to their floor of the clinic.

As the elevator door opened Susan said to her best friend, "I'll be careful, I promise. Keep telling me why I should run away, you promise?"

"I promise. But..." Paula grinned, "I'll bet the cost of a girl's night out that you'll hook up with this guy, what's his name, Logan, in three weeks or less."

"Three weeks or less? I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole," Susan laughed. They walked back into the clinic and became all business again.

Xavier's School for the Gifted had just built a brand new gym and indoor pool. Early

mornings were reserved for staff and a few older students in training for competitive sport, so Susan decided to check it out on her first day. No point in paying dues to a club when a freebie was right there. Plus, it was incredibly convenient to go straight from working out to working with no traffic to fight.

The gym was set so that the weight rooms, nautilus equipment and yoga/dance studio overlooked the pool. She walked to the edge of the pool, stuck a toe in to check the water and then glancing around, she spotted Electra above on the treadmill. They waved to each other. She also spotted Scott and Logan working out on free weights. Logan was in black sweat pants and a tank top, a slight sheen of sweat accentuated his muscled body. She looked him up and down, remembering the feel of him from the other night and her dreams.

Logan saw her and acknowledged her with a nod before she dove into the pool. Seeing her definitely broke his concentration on his workout. He had obsessed over her for the last two days and thought again of her kiss, her sweet, natural scent, the feel of her. He knew what it was like to want a woman and want for her was sharp. She was inside his head. That irritated him and made him feel vulnerable. The fact that she had ignored his nod didn't help his confidence. He put the weight down with a groan letting in clunk on the floor.

Scott noticed. It was his car that had interrupted things between them the other night and he had been looking for an opportunity to harass Logan about it. "You know what your problem is?" Scott said.

Logan glanced harshly at Scott has he toweled sweat from his face. "No, what's my problem this time?" he answered gruffly not sure of which one of his problems Scott was going to hassle him about now. Scott was always pointing out what his problems were and it really pissed him off.

"You've got no idea how to treat a woman. You move in too fast..."

Now Logan knew what he was talking about and he raised his open palm at Scott glaring at him with a look that said one- more- word- and- I'll- put- you- through- a -wall. Then he turned and stalked out of the room.

_Damn_, Logan thought to himself, _One-Eye's too smart for his own good. What the hell does he know? It's not like she punched me in the nose when I hit on her. Seemed like she kinda liked it._ Scott could have a point, but he'd never admit it, not even to himself.

Logan left and began to run along the nearby soccer field. After a few minutes, he spotted Susan coming out of the gym, heading toward her office. He picked up has pace and ran toward her.

"Susan." he called. She continued to walk pretending to ignore him. _She's pissed_ he thought. "Dr. Harris, wait a second." She stopped in her tracks and turned toward him and he caught up to her, breathing hard from his run.

"Good morning." she said politely.

Logan couldn't read her expression and her pheromones were neutral. His carefully rehearsed apology went completely out of his head.

"Is there something you need?" she asked in her most professional tone.

"Um, no. I mean, yes." He took a breath to steady his thoughts. He smelled anger-no just irritation on her. "I was out of line the other night and..."

She cut him off, her voice level and low, "Yes, you were." She was going to let him think she was angry and enjoy every minute tormenting him. She wasn't going to let him off easy.

He thought he saw just the slightest glint in her eye and shifted mental gears. "Are you pissed?" he asked.

"Maybe" was her answer and she began to walk briskly toward her office again.

_Maybe. What kind of answer is that? _ he thought. _This is not going how it's supposed to_. "Can I have a chance to back things up a little?"

"Maybe" she replied again.

Her face was stern, but her eyes betrayed her game. Her pheromones were not neutral.

Now he knew she was messing with him. "Just what does maybe mean?" he asked, irritation rising in him.

"It means maybe" she said. "Just what do you mean by backing things up a bit?"

"I mean, can I take you out sometime?"

She definitely had a glint in her eye. Her mouth curved in a slight smile. "Maybe" she answered again.

"How about dinner Friday?"

"Maybe" she almost giggled. He was definitely sweating and it wasn't from his run. "Oh," she exclaimed, "actually, probably not."

His irritation at this little game began to show. "Why not?"

"I'm on duty this Friday."

"So?" He didn't understand the significance of her reason.

She didn't answer right away. Maybe being on duty was the best scenario. They would have to stay near the hospital and there would be people around and her pager would be going off all the time and it would create just the right distractions to keep things from getting too intense too fast. "Ya know what, Logan? If you can put up with my non-stop pager and we can stay close to the hospital, then it's a date." His eyes lit up and he grinned like a teenager at her answer. _Oh, those eyes! He is one beautiful man_, she thought.

"Cool." he said, then glancing at his watch, realized that time had flown by and he had a class in less than half an hour. "I'll talk to you later" he said as he held the door to her office open for her and then dashed back to his office at the gym.

Susan enjoyed watching him make a victory stab in the air as he ran, reminding her a little bit of her oldest son. _Within in every man lurks the heart of an adolescent_ she thought and smiled.

After that, she made it a point to cross paths with Logan as much as possible the remainder of the week. Interestingly enough, he had the same idea. He'd stop by her office to see if she needed anything done and they both managed to show up at the same time for lunch.

Logan made sure he was on time at the gym on Thursday morning just to see her and she distracted him from his workout. Actually, he spent the entire week being distracted with thoughts of her. There was a moment or two when she had been alone and he had sensed her interest. It took every bit of his self control not to take her into his arms and continue where they had left off. At least he didn't have to exercise that control in his dreams. Dreams of her had replaced his nightmares, at least for the moment.

Thursday afternoon, in her new office at the school, Susan found herself way too involved watching Logan coaching soccer practice. From the glass paned doors, she could see the entire practice field where he was going over goalie tactics with a few boys.

He seemed an involved coach. Standing the sidelines barking commands didn't seem his style. He was right there demonstrating the jumping, blocking, kicks and dives that the kids needed. Watching him from her office, Susan couldn't help but be attracted: Athletic, handsome, rugged, she could lengthen the list of descriptive adjectives without too much effort. The guy radiated sex appeal.

Electra broke Susan's reverie. "Nice scenery, si?" Electra wasn't immune to Logan's magnetism.

Susan blushed and fidgeted for a moment. "You could say that." she agreed with a measured smile.

CHAPTER FOUR

Friday couldn't get there soon enough for Susan. Not because she was anticipating her date with Logan. She was anticipating it, but, it had been a stressful week. If it was not for stress at the clinic, it had been teenage issues with her boys. She looked forward to the seemingly laid back atmosphere at Xavier's School for the Gifted. She was counting on Friday afternoon to be peaceful and productive. She needed the respite before her ER shift began at six p.m. She had some research notes she wanted to format and wanted to get the blood samples from Logan to begin that research Charles had asked of her.

As a full-moon week would have it, it was neither peaceful nor productive. Strep throat was making the rounds at the school. Fifteen out of eighty students came to call. Some of the kids were pretty sick and she and Electra handled more fever- induced mutant out breaks of powers than either cared for. That was one of the things with mutant kids, fevers tended to make emerging powers go crazy. At end the day, after Electra had left, Logan had carried in one of the younger boys with a broken arm that needed care. It was a simple fracture, but, it would take two to put the child's broken bones back into place. She drafted Logan.

His immediate reaction was "Hey, that's not in my job description."

She cut him a 'get- over- it' look and proceeded to instruct him, "I want you to hold Tyler in your lap. Put your arms around him like bear-hug. Hold him close and still as I pull on his arm."

"Will it hurt?" the whimpering eleven year old inquired.

"No, sweetie. I'm going to give you something to help.'' she answered as she prepared a syringe. "Tyler, look over there," she pointed across the room gently pinched his arm and injected the sedative.

The boy whimpered, but stopped abruptly. "Hey, that didn't really hurt!"

"Told ya, dude. Let's give it a few minutes and we'll fix up that arm, ok."

Logan did as he was told. He impressed Susan by tenderly talking to the lightly sedated child through the procedure, even though he paled as the bones snapped and crunched back into place. Tyler howled once but recovered quickly, as most kids do. Susan casted him then had Logan get him settled upstairs in his room.

"Logan, come back when Tyler is settled" she told him. He nodded as he carried the boy up the elevator. She overheard him tell Tyler what a cool, brave kid he had been. She knew the difference between sincere and just talking a line and Logan was sincere. She smiled warmly when he returned. "You were a great help to me and you made all the difference for Tyler."

He dismissed her compliments with a gesture. "Hey, anybody would have done that."

Feeling his discomfort at being complimented, she let it drop. "By the way" she began a new tack. Do you want me to do that DNA testing?"

"Now?" he asked.

"Well, I'm here. The equipment I need is handy. Beside, you didn't show up Tuesday. Why not?"

He hated having his blood drawn and he was still trying to get the sound of Tyler's bones snapping back into place out of his mind. _Why did medical things freak him out?_ But he knew the answer to that question. "Yeah, might as well get it done with" he answered with resignation.

She drew four vials and placed them in a protective envelope, then teased him. "Ok tough guy, pick your band-aid. Garfield? Care Bears? Here's my favorite, Eeyore!" He looked at her with an 'are- you- for- real' glare.

Drawing his blood let her observe his healing power up close. When she removed the gauze compress, one tiny drop of blood emerged from his arm. She wiped it away and immediately all traces of the needle mark faded away. Intensely curious she asked him, "If you have, say a deep laceration, does it heal as quickly?"

"It depends. A really deep cut takes a little longer."

"How much?" she asked

"I don't know. I never timed it." He was getting irritated at the questioning, but continued "I've been really messed up a few times and it's taken me a few days to get back to normal." Changing the subject, "So what are you gonna do with those."

"I'm going to drop them off at a private lab I use from time to time. It takes a few weeks to process and have all the genetic sequences mapped. Once that's done, the next step's to take the sequences and try to find matches. It's all done by computer, but it still takes a while"

"And doing this is going to tell me what?" he asked intently.

"It'll match you with blood relatives. That is of course, if that relative is listed in the world-wide DNA banks. Those data banks go back some fifty years. Whenever someone went for labs or was hospitalized or whatever, the information was recorded. You know as well as I do that this was done to o isolate persons with the X-factor, but that's a whole different issue" she said with look of disgust on her face.

Logan nodded in understanding and agreement. "How many privacy laws get violated by this?"

With tight smile on her lips, she answered, "Don't ask, don't tell?"

"Ok. And with that, I'm gone" he said and left. Then he turned, stuck his head back in the door. "What about tonight? Where do you want to go?"

"Oh, it's been such a day, I haven't even given it a thought", she lied. "I'm supposed to get a break at about eight. Since I have to stay within walking distance, why don't you meet me at the cafe just across the street from the ambulance entrance. That's where all us doc's go. It's not fancy, but it is good"

"It's not what I had in mind, but it'll do. I'll see you then."

She smiled at him wistfully. "Thanks for understanding."

This definitely was not what Logan had in mind, but her apology undermined his frustration. He wanted to sit down with her over a leisurely dinner at a nice place. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her to focus on him. He wanted to see where a leisurely evening together would lead, but she wasn't making it easy. He got the distinct feeling that he might be being maneuvered. So, be it. She had her life, but he was going to find a way to fit into it.

Friday night shift in the ER was as wild as usual. The nights' weather brought a cold rain and a slew of rush hour accident victims to be patched up. In between, there were half dozen cases of flu, a drug overdose, a teenager in premature labor and the night was still young. The late night bar fight victims and drunk drivers hadn't even begun.

Susan was dealing with a baby with febrile seizures and her panicked parents when a nurse popped her head into the exam room. "Dr. Harris, there's someone asking for you out front."

Susan glanced up at the wall clock. Eight o'clock. "Thanks, Crystal. When you go by the front again, tell him I'll be there as soon as I can." The nurse nodded and headed on her way. It took her about fifteen more minutes to finish up with the feverish baby. When she got out to the waiting room, she spotted Logan thumbing through a magazine looking decidedly uncomfortable in the crowded area. She thought to herself he looked pretty good standing there dressed nicely pressed black jeans, a dark gray turtleneck and a black leather jacket. He looked a whole lot better put together than she did in her scrubs. She went over to him. "Hey", she smiled as she lightly touched his shoulder.

His face brightened, "Hey, yourself" Is it always like this?" he cocked his head at the packed waiting room.

"Worse, but it's still early. Come on" she tugged his arm. "I'm starving and I probably don't have as much time as I'd like." She motioned him to follow her. They stopped off in the doctors' lounge where she grabbed her coat then went out a side exit toward the cafe across the street. "Did you run into the accident on the freeway on your way here?" she asked pulling her coat around her against the cold rain and wind.

"No. I borrowed Charles's car so I took the long way around"

"Oh. What for?"

"'Cuz it sucks to ride my bike in weather like this." She shot him a questioning look. He caught it and elaborated. "I've got a Harley. That's it."

They entered the brightly lit, warm cafe. It wasn't too crowded. Susan nodded 'hello' to some of her colleagues. Then she and Logan took a booth toward the back. She slid in opposite him and leaned her head back against the seat. "It feels so good to get off my feet," she groaned.

Fran the waitress came by. She was matronly black woman with a perpetual smile, always nosy and full of advice about everything. "Dr. Sue, how are yaw tonight? And who is this young man with ya?"

"Hello, Fran. I'm starving, cold and tired." Susan replied. "This is Logan."

Fran gave Susan a 'give- me- some- more- information' look. Susan chose to ignore it for the moment and Fran did not press it. "I'll guess you'll have coffee," Fran looked to Susan. Susan nodded and added "Make it a cheeseburger and some O-rings, please."

"What will Logan here, have?" Fran inquired warmly. Logan ordered the same, except for the coffee. He wanted beer.

Susan was quiet and thoughtful as she decompressed from the goings on at the hospital, then in a gentle tone said, "Logan, you were really good with Tyler this afternoon. I put you kind of on the spot. I really want to thank you."

Uncomfortable with compliments he just shrugged.

"You don't strike me as the teacher type." she continued. "How did you end up at Xavier's School?"

Logan leaned back into the seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know. Charles made me an offer that seemed like the thing to do at the time. I didn't have any place to go or plans, so why not?"

"You've never taught before?"

"Nope". Fran set down the beer and coffee.

"Do you like it?" she continued.

"It beats a lot of things I've done." he answered, some evasiveness in his voice.

"Like?"

He was uncomfortable about talking about his past and himself and didn't think the time was right to go into detail about his cage fighting days. He fidgeted with the silverware and then took a deep chug of his beer.

His discomfort was not lost on Susan. She sipped her coffee and became silent.

When the food came they both hungrily attacked their meals. Between bites, Logan quizzed her. He wanted to know everything about her. He was charmed by her facial expressions, body language and just the way she pronounced her words. Even though, she had spent most of her adult life in New York, the Texan in her spilled out when she was relaxed. "So what's the deal with you? How come you came to work for Charles?"

"For a couple of reasons" she answered. "First, Charles asked me. It probably wouldn't have occurred to me, if he hadn't." She paused and polished off her burger. "Second, I was looking for something saner than the ER. I was getting burned out and I have some research that I need to devote more time to. And after..."

Fran interrupted. "Can I get you two anything else?"

"Yeah, another beer" Logan answered.

Susan shook her head. No. She was fine.

Before she could continue speaking, her pager phone buzzed. It made her jump. She pressed some numbers. "Dr. Harris here. What's up? Oh, God!" her face blanched.

Logan leaned toward her trying to ascertain what was happening. His sensitive hearing heard the voice on the other end of the cell phone.

"All right. I'm just across the street. What's the ETA? I'll be there." she snapped her phone closed. A moment ago she had looked relaxed. Now she was all adrenaline fueled alertness. "I've got to go. A bus full of kids crashed on some ice on the parkway. They'll be here in twenty minutes." she explained.

Logan winced at the thought of the carnage. He motioned Fran for the check, but threw a $30 on the table and followed on Susan's heels. When they got outside, the cold rain had changed to freezing rain. They ran across the street, taking care not to slip on forming ice patches. When they got to the entrance, Susan stopped him. "Thanks for the nice supper. I'm sorry for the...'

He cut her off. "It's ok. You've got a job to do. When do you get off?"

She sighed, slumping her shoulders. "Midnight, officially but with this bus crash and the weather getting worse, I can't predict."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "All right. I'll hang out. There's a pool hall a few blocks over. I'll come back around midnight."

She wanted to snuggle into him but was on duty and professionalism restrained her. "Logan, you ought to get back. This weather isn't getting any better."

"Yeah, I know. I thought you might like help getting home if it gets worse."

She was going to protest. She was going to tell him she was a big girl and had handled lots of New York weather. But the wailing ambulances signaled their need. There wasn't time for the debate. Logan leaned toward her, kissed her on the forehead and headed down the block. She was touched by his gentle gesture. Then she squared her shoulders and headed back to the ER.

The hours dragged for Logan. He played some serious pool, won a few bucks. He got to smoke the cigars that he loved but had practically given up. Xavier had made it pretty clear about cigars around the school, even in his private quarters. He even managed to stay out of fights and away from the local talent, which for him in a bar was an accomplishment.

Three hours went by in a blink for Susan. The accident with the bus turned out to be not as bad as it could have been. No child was seriously hurt. There were lots of stitches, contusions, radiology orders, few broken bones and one or two mild concussions. Still was still physically and emotionally. Her own sons were the ages of these kids and she always had a nagging fear that one night one of her own precious sons would be brought in. Sometimes with fatigue, the nagging fear grew. She had been known to sneak off to the doc's lounge for a cry every now and again.

Logan wandered back to the hospital a little after midnight. The sleet had changed back to rain. Things had quieted down in the ER so that when he strode in, the receptionist actually remembered him from earlier. "You're here for Dr. Harris, right?"

"Yeah" Logan answered somewhat impressed. "Let her know Logan's here." He strode to an empty section of the waiting area and leaned against a support column.

Some nurses loitering around took note of him. They commented back and forth to each other having no clue that Logan's sense of hearing was far above that of normal hearing.

"Mmm-mmm. There's someone I'd like to examine." "Think it's time to send out a Ten-alert?" "You said it, girl." "Who's he waiting for?" "I don't know, but if they don't show up he can take me home" One of the nurses left the pack for the nurse lounge to spread the Ten-alert.

Logan, enjoying eavesdropping on them, debated glancing over, just to see their reaction, but decided it was more interesting and informative to just pretend he didn't hear.

As the Ten-alert spread through the ER, lot's of female employees suddenly found it necessary to cruise by the reception area. The alert made its way back to the doctors' lounge, where Susan and some of her colleagues were relaxing and chatting, waiting for shift change. Being exhausted from a now twenty hour day, she didn't even pay attention until she glanced at the time-twelve-thirty. The phone rang in the lounge. Someone picked it up and then told Susan that 'a Logan' was waiting for her out front. Suddenly realizing who the Ten-alert was about, she laughed out loud then made her way to the waiting area. She decided to play along with the Ten- alert and joined the pack of women. She knew he could probably hear what was being said but didn't want him to know she was there just yet. She was just ornery and punchy enough from the long day to give the nurses something to gossip about. She gave the nurses a thumbs-up, indicating her approval of their taste in masculinity. She strode across the ER reception area in a direction away from Logan then changed direction and walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist. "Hey, you're late." She said softly

He'd been faking interest in a magazine, while concentrating on the nurses' conversation and the layers of scent from sick people confused his sense of smell, so he was actually startled by her. He stiffened defensively for a moment, but her voice short-circuited his reaction. He embraced her and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, glanced in the direction of the nurses and gave them a wink. "I am _not_ late." he said, releasing his embrace.

"I know," she said. "Come on, I'll get my things and you can take me out for dessert. I'm starving."

He followed her past the pack of nurses, who had suddenly found things to busy themselves with. Walking past, he couldn't resist letting them know he had heard every comment and he asked Susan just loudly enough, "So, tell me about this Ten-Alert thing." Susan's laughter nearly drowned out the nurses giggling and admonishing each other.

They went back to the cafe for some pie and coffee and conversation, exploring each other's interests, impressions of mutual colleagues, politics, the school, the kids, Susan's research, Logan's amnesia, and Susan's expectations for being able to help him. Before they knew it, it was three a.m. "Oh my gosh," she said "I've gotta go home." They headed out of the cafe toward the parking garage. Freezing rain had begun and the city looked surreal under a coating of ice. They supported each other trying to keep from slipping down the ramp to the parking garage.

"It's really bad out here. I should to drive you." Logan said

"I'm fine. I've done this before." she answered

"I'm sure you have, but not when I've been around." his tone was strong, protective. "Where are you parked?"

Exhausted, she didn't feel like arguing and handed him her keys. "We'll take my car, Corvettes don't handle on ice at all." she answered, stifling a yawn.

"Neither do Jag's" he retorted.

"I drove the Volvo tonight. I _did_ listen to the forecast."

The drive to her home normally took twenty minutes but with the roads icy, it took Logan about an hour. Susan had reclined the passenger seat and drifted to sleep. At a traffic light he studied her in slumber. Her eyes were shut, her lips soft and just parted. He remembered the taste of her, the warmth of her body. Asleep she looked so

beautiful and delicate. Overtaken with a deep feeling of tenderness, he put the car in neutral and leaned over her to lower her seat back.

Startled, she jerked upright, rapping her head sharply against his. As he swore, she reflexively shoved him away.

"Relax. I'm not going to touch you. I like my women awake when I make love to them. You're sleeping so I thought I'd make you comfortable." he assured gently.

Susan's mind jolted at this idea. "Whoa, cowboy. What makes you think...?"

He cut her off. "Relax, babe. No moves, I promise."

Awake now, she snapped. "There's a comfort. I wasn't sleeping and I'm not your babe."

"Ok, Dr. Babe." he answered smartly. Pressing his finger against her forehead, he gently pushed her back into the seat. "Ssshh, go back to sleep."

"No," she mumbled sleepily as she relaxed back into the seat again, mumbling something about 'in his dreams', but Logan ignored it.

He pulled into her driveway, hit the garage remote then eased the car into her garage, next to the Jag. Nudging her gently he said "Hey, were here."

Trying to shake off fatigue, she said drowsily, "Mmmm? Oh, ok."

By the time she was coherent enough to get out of the car, he already had the door open for her. "Thank you…Logan, you're welcome to stay in my guest room tonight" Susan offered as she punched in the disabling code for the house alarm. "It's not fit for anyone to be out and about."

Logan didn't hesitate a second in accepting her offer. He slept fitfully, however. Freezing rain and sleet continued to pelt against the huge pane of windows in her 'guest' room, which was a sofa bed in the study next to her bedroom. He nearly speared one of her cats when the creature jumped onto the back of the couch he was trying to sleep on. Cats were not a favorite and he thought they should somehow figure this out.

Her nearness in the next room was a torment. He remembered her tantalizing scent, the taste of her kiss and the feel of her body when she leaned into him. He'd promised her to take things slow but he wasn't a slow mover. Hard learned lessons in life had taught him to take what he wanted when he could because he didn't trust that tomorrow would come. It seemed like he had just drifted into some restful sleep when he was jolted awake by the telephone. Before he could even get oriented, he heard her voice from the bedroom.

"...yes, I was sleeping. It was a long shift last night, son. I haven't even looked out yet. Is it still bad out there? So, the game's cancelled? I'm sorry. I was looking forward to seeing you guys kicking some butt. Okay, next Saturday. Love you, Matt, bye now."

She wandered out of the bedroom wrapped in a thick terry robe mumbling to herself about the need for coffee but stopped cold in her tracks when she realized Logan was sitting upright on her sofa bed-shirtless.

I almost forgot you stayed", she stammered.

Logan grinned. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya." He stood up, stretched and popped his shoulders.

Susan took note of his state of undress, thinking _Hello baby. _ She opened the curtains in the family room and observed the ice-covered wonderland in her back yard. "It was probably a good call. It's pretty, but treacherous out there. Want some coffee?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"Definitely." he answered. "By the way, where's the..."

"Bathroom" she finished for him. "Right across from the study. In the linen closet are extra towels and all that stuff if you want a shower. Use what you need."

She used the time he was showering to so the same. Images of him drifted through her mind as she soaped herself. She was very attracted to him physically. Any woman would have to be either dead or not into men not to be. Therein lay the problem. She was _too_ attracted to him physically and that in her mind was a recipe for heartache she did not want. In her mind she re-ran their conversation in the cafe. She had discovered that buried under his gruff, standoffish attitude was an intelligent, resilient, decent man, fascinating from any standpoint. Trying to keep the strong physical attraction in perspective, she could admit that she liked him for the man he seemed to be.

Dressed in jeans and an oversized sweat shirt with Texas A&M emblazoned on the front, she emerged from her bedroom. He was sipping a mug of coffee and studying some of the photographs that lined the bookshelves in the family room. Her pulse quickened as she observed stray beads of water on his shirtless chest and how his jeans rode low on his hips.

"You've got a lot of great memories in these pictures" he said. It was both a question and a statement.

"Yeah, they keep me from being lonely. This house gets awfully quiet without my boys."

She wasn't thinking of her boys right now. She was thinking about the state of Logan's dress, rather undress.

"You're family is really important, isn't it?" he asked as he came back to the coffee where she was standing.

"Number one priority," her answer was firm and prideful.

"I'd give a lot to have something like that." his words sounded lonely.

He reached past her to pour more coffee, his closeness m her jumpy.

Logan's heightened senses tuned into her nervousness detecting something more than mere nervousness. Those potent pheromones she was giving off sent his blood coursing and he struggled to control his natural instinct but wasn't sure his body wouldn't betray him. He leaned against the kitchen counter, posture relaxed.

She drew in a quiet inward breath. _This is crazy! I've got a half-naked man in my house, who I hardly know and..._ she thought. She placed her coffee mug on the counter and turned to face him. Reaching out a trembling hand, she touched his face, her hands running down his shoulders and then his chest, just stopping at his waist.

He tensed ever so slightly, warmth spreading from his belly through the rest of his body.

"I want you, Logan" she said as she leaned in and kissed him softly.

He nearly dropped his coffee mug. "What ever happened to taking it slow?" His eyes were cool, questioning, not quite believing, his control crumbling.

"I changed my mind." she answered kissing him more urgently.

He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her back eagerly then pulled back to look into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

She took his hand and led him to her room.

After that, it was over for him and he knew he would never be able to stay away from her. In one sweep she managed to seduce him _and_ get into his mind and heart. He'd spent the last fifteen years avoiding anything remotely associated with emotional involvement. Now he was stupidly, hopelessly, irretrievably in love with her.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, was it? Even so, he didn't have the guts to tell her how he felt. If she didn't feel the same, he couldn't handle it. He just held onto her tight, the two of them drifting into sleep.

Her absence awoke him. He struggled to orient himself. He smelled food and heard some music with a decidedly country flavor. "Susan?" he called.

"I'm in the kitchen. You hungry?" she called back.

"Starving." he answered emerging from the bedroom

She was frying up slices of leftover steak, eggs, potatoes, onions and peppers. His stomach growled loud enough she could hear it and she laughed. "I'd say so. It'll only be about ten minutes." Make some more coffee, would you? And would you get the tortillas from the fridge, please?" she asked.

He nodded affirmatively and set to work on the coffee. Then she directed him to where things were in the kitchen to set the table. When the meal was ready, she looked at him with mock sternness. "The rule around here is you come to the meal table fully dressed. Go put your shirt on."

"Yes, ma'am" he answered crisply, with a 'make-me' look.

They set about devouring the steak and egg burritos in silence. He winced at her liberal application of salsa. She laughed at him. "Hey, real men like hot salsa on their food."

He copped an ornery grin and shot back, "I may not have hot salsa on my food, but I sure got it in bed."

She blushed and giggled. "Yeah, I'll second that." Then the look on her face became serious. "Where do we go from here?" she asked hoping for a sign that what had just passed between them might continue to grow.

"I don't know." He paused, inhaled and slowly exhaled. "Maybe, we just take it one day at a time." He felt a twinge of panic, barely ready to admit that he was gone on her and he certainly wasn't ready to tell her. The feeling was too new, too overpowering. He reached for her hand, looked deep into her eyes and spoke to her with tenderness, "I promise I won't do anything to make you regret today." That was the closest he could come to admitting even a tiny bit of the wondrous emotions swirling inside him. He'd work up the courage to cross the rest of the bridge later.

It was enough for now. She nodded to him, her gaze never breaking with his. Finally, she rose from the table and began to clean up. He followed her along, helping. "Speaking of a day at a time" he inquired while drying the fry pan "what is the plan for today?"

"Switch cars around. I'll bet Charles is having a minor fit about his beloved Corvette"

"Geez, I didn't even think about that. I'll call him...No, I won't. If he was worried, he'd have tracked me down with Cerebro by now."

"Really? Does he really keep track of all y'all that way?"

"Not routinely." He got a funny look on his face "All y'all" he repeated with an exaggerated twang. "Is that a word?"

"Hush up. Are you making fun of me?"

"Absolutely not. I value my... um... my health."

"Good. Anyway, I have to check on some newborns at the hospital. Then I was hoping to move Rocky over the stables at school. Then I'm fixin..." she chose the word on purpose. He cringed. "...to check on Tyler's arm.

"Who's Rocky?"

"My horse. If the roads haven't cleared enough, I still need to spend some time with him. I try to ride at least once every weekend."

"Sounds like a full day. When do you rest?"

"Oh, rest time is penciled in sometime around two thousand and fifteen."

"Sounds like we better get started"

Outside, the temperature had warmed up and most of the ice had begun to melt. The trip back to the hospital garage took its normal twenty minutes. When they got there, the Corvette was perfectly safe exactly where Logan had left it. He was distrustful about parking garages so he waited for her during the half hour that she checked on her patient and he was glad he did. As she made her way from the stairwell toward the cars, a man came up slightly behind her. Not being panicky, she kept her stride toward the car subtly reaching into her purse for her mace. At the same time, Logan saw the man and began moving purposely toward her. Suddenly, he sensed someone else behind him, close.

"Behind you, Logan," Susan shouted, "with a knife!" Then, she spun and blasted the man behind her with the mace. He fell to ground cursing, gagging and choking.

Logan felt a point against his spine and froze. A knife in the back would really screw up the rest of his weekend.

"We just wanted the keys, sucker" the guy snarled. But your bitch here had to go and mess with my friend. Now youze guys are gonna pay"

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Logan. "You get one good try at me, asshole" he snarled back, ejecting all six claws, then spun around and pointed one clawed fist toward the man, stopping millimeters from his throat. The man turned white, dropped his weapon and fled. The man on the ground, just maced by Susan, suddenly found the strength to flee as well.

Susan stood frozen in place, stunned by Logan's display, her blue eyes wide as saucers. Her voice shook. "Remind me that I want you on my side always."

Logan retracted his claws and strode over to her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded weakly then reached out to touch his hand. A few drops of blood still lingered at the point where the claws had cut through his knuckles. Then, the cuts closed, turned pink and vanished. "I saw your X-rays and read your medical file the other day, but I couldn't have imagined." The gravity of the situation hit and she began to tremble. Logan took her in his arms and held her tenderly, gently stroking and kissing her hair until she stopped. "Do you want me to follow you out to the stables?" he asked.

"No. I'll be fine. Take the "'Vette" back to Charles. I'll be over in a few hours." Her voice still was shaky. She tried to fake a reassured smile, but Logan wasn't fooled.

He looked at her with fierce protectiveness. "No, I think I'll..."

She cut him off, irritation in her voice. "Logan, until this morning, I had been taking care of myself fairly well. I'm ok. I need a little space, please."

He sighed and let her go. "Just call me and let me know you got to the stables."

"I promise." Then she drove off.

He hopped in the Corvette and headed back to School. Then he returned the keys to Charles with reassurances that the car was perfect and the ice storm had posed no issues, but he didn't mention the foiled car-jacking.

"I trust your evening with Dr. Harris was enjoyable?" Charles said.

Logan cringed inside. He hadn't told anyone that he was taking her out. "How did you know?"

"An educated guess." Charles answered and then added "she's a lovely, talented woman."

_Oh, yeah!_ Logan thought to himself. Why did he sometimes feel like he was about fifteen years old around the Professor? He knew that the Professor did not use Cerebro lightly, to pry into his employees lives. _Was he that transparent?_ He shook his head and headed off to his suite to change clothes and get to work on some things that needed doing around the school.

Susan called about three hours later and asked him if he could meet her at the stables. She needed help getting Rocky boarded.

He watched her in deep fascination when she led the huge animal around the arena and then rode bareback to get the horse acclimated to its new surroundings.

"Walk with me." she said to Logan as she dismounted and began to lead Rocky for a cooling down.

"You've been riding a long time" he observed. It was both a statement and a question.

"Since I could walk. Daddy gave me a pony when I was four. I've had Rocky since my thirteenth birthday." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "It's funny, when I got Rocky, as a present from my Dad, I was actually very angry. What I really had wanted for that birthday was for my Dad to come home, not just send me some over the top gift. He was always doing that. Sending something wonderful, but not being there in person." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Logan was filled with the feeling of deja-vu. "I know exactly how you feel." he said. And somehow he really did. He was sensing something- not actually a memory but a feeling he had experienced the same type of thing as a child.

They walked in silence for a while then took Rocky to his stall. Susan motioned for Logan to stay outside the stall while she brushed him down. "He doesn't know you and might kick in these close surroundings" she warned.

"Not a problem. I'll just take myself elsewhere." he answered, swiftly backing up a few feet.

"Would you mind rounding up Tyler for me?"she asked.

"Ok. Do you want us to meet you in the underground?"

"Don't think so, my office should do."

Logan nodded and jogged off toward the main building. "Anybody know where Tyler is?" he asked a group of kids loitering in a hallway. Somebody answered that he was in the TV room. "Thanks" he answered and proceeded to the TV room. "Tyler, my man, Dr. Sue wants to check out the arm."

"Ok, coach. Hey, guess what? When I try to use my powers, I can't make the broken part of my arm go invisible. It's too weird." Tyler's had the power to make himself invisible. He also had serious issues with Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity and sometimes used his gift to really irritate almost everybody. Logan, surprisingly, had an unusual tolerance for the boy. Tyler somehow reminded Logan of himself. Once the kid learned to channel his gift correctly, he probably would be extremely valuable and welcome on the X-Team.

"Lemme see." Logan encouraged, knowing he probably shouldn't. Tyler faded from view with the exception of his broken arm. "Man, you're not kidding. Ask Dr. Sue about that. Get visible again before you get us both in trouble."

They waited in Susan's office. Tyler fidgeted and toyed around with some objects on the coffee table, then spotted a magic marker. "Hey Coach? Will you sign my cast? Everybody else has 'cept you and Dr. Sue."

Logan obliged. "Dr. Sue is a really nice lady." Tyler continued to chatter. "I like her a lot. I wish she was my Mom or something. Do you like her, Coach?"

Logan grinned and ruffed the boys' hair. "Yeah, she's a nice lady."

"I wasn't sure I was going to like her better than Dr. Gray." the boy continued as he fidgeted about the room.

The statement took Logan by surprise. The mention of Jeans name stirred up feelings he thought had passed. "How's that?" he questioned.

"'Cause Dr. Gray was a really tough science teacher. She flunked one of my projects once. Dr. Sue is only my doctor. She can't flunk me."

Logan had to laugh at the boy. It sounded like perfect eleven year old logic to him.

Susan arrived and gave Tyler a quick check. "Looking good, Ty. Are you hurting?"

"No ma'am." the boy replied seriously. "But, when I go invisible, my arm doesn't"

"Really?" Sue looked surprised. "Show me what you're talking about."

Tyler faded out. Again, his arm remained visible. "It's too weird" his disembodied voice said.

"I think it's going to be ok, Ty. Once your arm heals up, I think it will be invisible again."

"Are you sure?" the boy quizzed, reappearing.

"Pretty sure. We'll check it out again next week. Deal?" she put her hand out and Tyler slapped his good hand against hers.

"Deal." he answered and scurried out of the office. "Thank you." he shouted from down the hall.

She turned her attention to Logan, still sitting on her couch in front of the fireplace. "That's the last thing on my To Do List. Can I treat you to dinner?" she said as she strolled over behind him and began to rub his shoulders.

"Sure." he answered shifting around to face her

She coyly rested her elbows on the sofa back, "What are you in the mood for?" she asked

"You" he whispered and kissed her ever so gently.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her over the back of the sofa on top of him. She let out a muffled pretend shriek. "You're crazy" she murmured returning his kiss.

"Crazy about you" he said as his hands journeyed down her back.

She pulled back just slightly and propped her elbows against his chest. "Ya know what? This is probably not a good idea, not here anyway."

Exhaling deeply, Logan nodded in agreement. "Let's get out of here."

CHAPTER FIVE

So they went out to dinner then back to her place. In contrast to the lustful romp they'd had earlier, the lovemaking was tender, leisurely and deliberate. Holding her tenderly, relishing the afterglow Logan whispered, "I love you."

She wasn't expecting to hear that and placed a finger on his lips, "Sshh. Don't say something you might regret tomorrow."

He pulled slightly away. Her words cut his heart, wounded his ego. He didn't speak love casually. He couldn't even remember a time when he'd said I love you to anyone. Didn't she know that? A flash of anger went through him. He fought it back. How could she know that? They were just getting to know each other. He pulled her closer and chose his words carefully. "I meant what I said. I love you Susan Harris and I'm not going to regret anything tomorrow."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Logan, this is so fast. For Gods sake, a week ago I didn't even know you existed. I wasn't looking for anyone." She took in a deep breath trying to steady her voice and organize her thoughts. "I don't know how to say this without sounding... hurtful."

"It's ok."

"I don't want to get involved any deeper if I'm just the...oh how can I put this...

if I'm just the next conquest. If that's how it is, then it stops right now."

Her words stung. He took a long time to respond. Pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed, he spoke forcefully, his hurt reflected in his response. "If you were gonna be the next _conques_t, I wouldn't be here right now. It would have been all over with this morning." Softening, he continued, "For the past fifteen years I've been too screwed up in my own problems or too pissed off at the human race or just whatever to let myself love somebody. I have no idea what you did to me, Susan, but I love you and I'll do anything to make this work out and earn your love." His just heart and soul was open and it showed in his eyes and face.

Susan's reservations about his feelings for her thawed. "I like you. I care for you very much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to love you."

He turned, smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I can wait 'til you're ready." His passion rose again as he smothered her in a deep kiss. It felt like the first time for him and in a way it was, the first time that he could remember making love to a woman he was in love with. Just before they drifted off to sleep it dawned on him that he'd better warn her about his nightmares. "Susan, you need to know something important." he said quietly.

"Hmmm?" she asked dreamily, drowsing out.

"Listen, Baby. If I have a nightmare, you can't get near me."

She became more alert, "Why?"

"Remember today in the garage? My claws?"

Her eyes widened.

"I can get violent when I have the nightmares." A look of pain came into his eyes. "I almost killed Marie once when she tried to wake me up from one."

Susan looked puzzled. What was she supposed to do if he had a nightmare when they were sleeping together and pray-tell, what was he doing with Marie?

He guessed what her questioning look was about. "No, I didn't sleep with Marie." he said matter-of-factly. Then his tone changed to one of uncertainty. "I'm not sure what you should do if I have a nightmare."

"For some reason, Logan, I don't think you will hurt me. I don't know why. But I just don't think you will."

He shook his head. "Just promise you'll give me some space when I do have them."

"I promise." she answered him and settled into him. "Now let me sleep. I've got to be up tomorrow at seven."

"Seven? It's Sunday. What for?"

"Church." she whispered drowsily

He raised an eyebrow and mouthed an incredulous Ok. They were definitely still getting to know each other. He willed himself to sleep lightly. There was no way he was going to risk a nightmare, not their first night together.

The alarm clock buzzed far too soon. Susan snapped it off, groaned and slipped out of bed. Logan, flat on his stomach, raised his head, yawned and then buried his head under the pillow. She gently slapped his rear as she went by toward the bathroom.

His body jerked in surprise then he raised up a corner of the pillow and peered at her. From where he lay he could see her beautiful body reflected in the large mirrors of her bath. _There's some nice scenery to wake up to_ he thought. He watched her as she turned on the shower then did a little skip back as the water came on. While the water warmed up, she plugged in her curling iron and began to brush her teeth. He sat up and stretched, still keeping his eyes on her.

She saw him in the reflection of her mirror. She had just finished rinsing the toothbrush when he strolled up just behind her at the sink.

He gently feathered her shoulders with his fingers. "Good morning, beautiful." he said.

"Good morning, yourself" she answered cheerily. "Did you have a good sleep?"

He nuzzled her hair and traced her backbone with his fingers. Her body shivered. "Mmm, hmm." he answered her dreamily.

She sighed and then purposely moved away. "Save it for later, Bright eyes. I've got to get my act together." Her tone was gentle and playful. Stepping into the shower she asked,

"Want to come to Mass with me?"

"No thanks. I'll pass on that." he answered.

"Suit yourself." and she began to shampoo her hair.

Logan was momentarily disappointed and surprised she put off his overture. He was not accustomed to being resisted. Here again, she was calling the shots, making him fit her life. Oh, yeah, learning to live with her was going to be one sweet challenge. He let her finish her shower.

When finally came into the living room, Logan was sprawled on the couch, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. He smiled at the sight of her, dressed in a sleek gray wool skirt topped with a pink cashmere sweater that clung to her figure perfectly, accented with an obviously expensive gold cross on a chain that just set perfectly atop her sweater. _God, so classy and sexy_, he thought. He let out a whistle. "Very nice" he said rakishly.

She gave him a smile and a wink. "See you in an hour or so, Bright eyes."

_Bright eyes? What's with that? _Logan chuckled to himself then threw his head back and groaned. _What am I doing with this classy lady? What the hell does she see in me? Man, I need to clean up my act. I look like a freakin_' _bum._ He resolved to go shopping for some new clothes. His current wardrobe of jeans, t-shirts and flannel work shirts were not going to cut it. That gray turtleneck he wore the other night was the only "dressy" thing he owned. A haircut was probably in order, too. He tossed the newspaper aside, sat upright and laughed aloud at himself then gave the cat draped across the back of the couch a rub behind its ears. "What do ya think, cat?" he said to the purring animal, "I'm a hopeless case, absolutely gone on your mistress." Then he headed off to the bathroom to shave and shower. This time he brought his shaving kit and a clean change of clothes.

Next, he rummaged through the kitchen to prepare something for breakfast for them when she returned. Over the years he had picked up some culinary skills. He only had a few specialties, but what he did know how to cook, he did very well, if he did say so himself. Sausage, eggs, bread and some seasonings turned into an awesome breakfast casserole. Orange juice and oh, yeah, she had some champagne in her wine 'fridge.

"Classy brunch for a classy lady, he muttered aloud. He put the casserole in the oven and glanced at the time. She'd probably be back in about twenty more minutes or so. He paced around the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with himself, then he remembered her music room and wandered in there. He picked up the guitar that had been left on the floor, sat down on the ottoman and strummed. It was out of tune so he began plucking the strings and tightening and loosening the tuning knobs. _That's better, _he thought_. Very nice guitar! Must belong to one of her boys. _. It took a few minutes before he felt like he could play the thing. It had been what, eighteen months, more, since he had last played. He skipped around various songs he knew. Free Bird, Stairway to Heaven, House of the Rising Sun even some acoustic interpretations of Stevie Ray Vaughn tunes. It was almost no time before he heard the garage door rumble open and she was back. He leaned the guitar carefully against the ottoman and went to greet her. He could hear her voice, smooth, soulful contralto, singing what he guessed was something from church filtering in through the closed door from the house to the garage.

_...I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright_

_Who will bear my light to them? Whom shall I send?_

_Here I am Lord, It is I Lord. I have heard you calling in the night._

_I will go Lord, if you lead me..._

He opened the door just as she was about to, startling her and she squealed, making him laugh. She gave him a playful punch to the chest. "Oooh, it smells good. What did ya fix?" she swooned

"Follow me, my lady" he said gallantly and took her coat then pulled the kitchen chair out, tossed the coat over the back of the couch, sending the cat scrambling. Next, he pulled out the champagne and orange juice and poured her a Mimosa. Straight champagne for him, citrus was too tart for his sensitive taste buds.

She just watched him with an amused look on her face. This guy had so many facets. She found this particular incarnation positively charming and told him so.

Coming from anyone else would have elicited a less than positive response from him. It was not an adjective that many used to describe him. Coming from her, though, he could accept it and even believe it- just a little bit. Yeah, and he couldn't wait for an opportunity to convey just what she thought of him to Scott. Who said he didn't know how to treat a lady? He bowed to her, flashed an endearing grin and then clinked his champagne glass against hers. "Breakfast is about twenty minute's away." he told her between sips. "So where do you go to church?"

"St. Ignatius. The boys go to school there, too."

"Catholic girl, n'est pas?"

'Oui! You speak French?"

"Yeah, a little. And I don't have the slightest idea why or how."

"That's some kind of clue, Logan. That's got to have something to do with your past."

He rolled his eyes and muttered "Whatever."

She caught his I- don't- feel- like- going- there attitude and dropped it. "I'm going to change" she announced, taking her Mimosa with her, while he checked on the oven.

He glanced out of the kitchen into her backyard. Some jonquils had emerged and a few had bloomed. He went outside, expelled one blade and snipped off a few blooms found a tall glass and set it on the table.

She emerged from her room dressed in tan riding breeches and red turtleneck, her blond, wavy hair pulled back in a pony-tail, a few strands already escaping the rubber band. "It's fixin' to be a really nice day. I'm going to take Rocky all over the school grounds today. Want to come along?" she asked in a breezy tone.

He was just removing breakfast from the oven when she asked and knit his brows together in that scowl of his. In his opinion, horseback riding was something you did when you had no other choice of transportation. Riding for the fun of it was not what he liked to do. He set the dish down on the table. "Um, no thanks. I'm not too good at it." He pulled a chair out for her

"Thank you" she said as she sat. Not bothered by his decline she answered "Suit yourself."

"Besides" he continued, "I've got some things I need to get done today." He was definitely thinking about heading to the mall to buy some clothes and get that haircut. While she was out riding would be perfect.

Shop he did. For four hours he traipsed through the mall and was pretty proud of himself too. He never lost his focus or his temper. He wasn't really sure he got any bargains, but he had the money since expenses were pretty minimal to live on and he had saved most of his pay. He hit Joseph A Banks, Eddie Bauer and Banana Republic. About a thousand bucks later, he had bought himself chino's in brown, black, olive, navy and gray. He refused khaki, which was too much like Scott. He bought some button down shirts in plaids and stripes. Silk T- shirts blew him away. They looked good and felt really good, so he got a few of those plus more turtlenecks and a pullover sweater. He almost bought a pair of Docksider shoes, but decided they were too sissy. He decided go by the Harley Davidson dealer instead and check out new boots. His final splurge was a suede bomber jacket. It was too late to get the haircut by the time he finished up shopping.

He strapped his purchases to the back of his Harley and headed back to the school where he caught sight of Susan trotting Rocky not too far off the road. He slowed to watch her ride.

She really looked great. Posting perfectly to the rhythm of the animals trot, she was completely relaxed and contented looking. He smiled to himself and kept wondering what he'd gotten himself into. What did beauty like her see in an animal like him? He pulled into the garage and headed through the passageway to the mansion. Scott just happened to be around and he just happened to be irritated with him.

"You know we had a training session in the Danger Room today?"

_Shit, he forgot._ "Okay"

"So, where the hell were you anyway? Come to think of it, where have you been all weekend?"

"Enough of your shit, One-Eye" Logan snarled. "All right, I did forget today's training exercise. Sorry. As for the rest, none of your damned business." Then stomped off to his room to stow he'd bought and change into some of it. He almost always had supper with Victor and Electra on Sunday evenings and decided to ask Susan along.

Then he headed back downstairs to where Marie, Jubilee, Bobby and some of the older kids were hanging out. They immediately noticed something different. Logan dressed in navy chinos and a button down shirt in a fine gauged plaid of red, hunter, navy, yellow and white with sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, definitely brighter that what he usually wore.

"Whoa, Logan. You look great." Marie gushed.

Logan gave her a sly smile. "I know."

"Where ya goin?"

"No where, for now. What's going on with you guys?"

"Just chillin"

"Cool" he answered and then headed outside to the stables. Behind him, he could hear Marie and Jubilee speculating a mile a minute. "What's gotten into him? I think he's got a girlfriend. Like who? I don't know. I didn't know he could clean up so nice. He's sooo cute. Hey, let's follow and see where he's going."

They waited until they thought they'd allowed a safe enough distance for him to not sense they were following him but he knew it and ignored them.

Susan had just finished brushing Rocky down and putting the tack away when he came into the stables. "Hey, did ya have a good afternoon?" she asked him.

"Not bad. How was your ride? I saw ya out by the drive." He held the door open for her as they left the barn.

"It was great. I love to de-stress with a long ride." she answered, sliding her hand into his as they walked.

Marie and Jubilee, hiding behind shrubbery, saw them come out of the barn hand in hand.

"O my gawd, it's Dr. Sue. This is too cute." Jubilee giggled.

Marie huffed, "I'd never have put them together. Be quiet, they'll hear us."

"I usually have supper with Vic and Electra on Sunday's." Logan said. "I know they won't mind if you come along. How 'bout it?"

"I really should go home. I've got things to do to prepare for next week."

"Well..." he was looking for some leverage. "You've got to eat supper. I promise it won't be a late night."

Susan thought about it for a long moment. "Okay, let me run home and grab a shower. I smell like a horse. Does an hour sound right?"

"Perfect." Then he pulled her close and whispered. "We've got an audience over by the garden"

"Oh, yeah?" she answered with a light smooch.

"Marie and Jubilee, I think their radar is locked in on us."

"How cute. Let's give them something to gossip about." Susan giggled. "Kiss me, you fool."

Logan wrapped his arms around her and gave her a long, hard, wet kiss. They both nearly cracked up laughing when they heard the girls squeal and bolt back the mansion.

"I guess we're an item now." Logan laughed.

"Could be." she pulled away from him and headed for her car. He gave her a swat on the backside.

"That's for this morning" he said.

She stuck her tongue out at him and drove away.

CHAPTER SIX

So, they did become an item around both the school and the hospital falling into a routine of fitting time for each other in with all their combined responsibilities. He generally had more free time than her and it got on his nerves sometimes. The hardest issue was the weekends her kids stayed over and he was banished from over-nights. She told him firmly it was important to set good examples for teenage boys and even though brain could understand his libido didn't.

He realized her schedule was often over full and demanded her full attention, but she was disciplined, had an ability to compartmentalize her life and she was by nature peaceful, calm and introspective. She looked on the positive side of things, but not naively so. In short, she was his complete opposite. He also knew being with her was changing him. Maybe it was being in that love was changing him. Maybe her positive qualities were rubbing off on him. But whatever it was, he was slower to his rages. His sarcasm seemed tempered and he was even getting along with Scott, sort of. He felt more relaxed and even happy. He smiled more and people noticed. The nickname Susan called him, Bright Eyes, he'd found out came from the way he smiled, which according to her, he didn't do enough. His whole face, especially his eyes would light up. Her explanation embarrassed him and he made her promise not to slip and call him that around School. He did have a reputation to maintain.

In the days and weeks that followed, things they did together were adding up to a rich bank of memories: Picnics, romantic suppers in the City, co-chaperoning weekends at the School, planning a prom for the kids at School, all the normal stuff of life that Logan had no previous memory of. If he ever felt like he was in uncharted territory, and he often did, Susan would always led him through with grace, saintly tolerance, diplomacy and a killer sense of humor.

Sunday supper expanded into much more than Logan, Susan, Electra and Vic. Kurt and Storm had become close and even Charles had a lady friend named Genevieve, so the four couples chose to rotate suppers. The only odd man out was Scott. He still had deep issues over Jean's death and chose to keep to himself.

Each couple chose a theme and style, ranging from picnic casual to china and crystal formal. They had great times experimenting with cuisine from the varied ethnic backgrounds they'd come from. Charles was decidedly British. Kurt was firmly German. Susan and of course Vic and Electra were Tex-Mex. Storm was African, but also vegetarian. Logan and Genevieve, being of French extraction, sparred incessantly over the difference between French Canadian and Parisian. Logan also had extensive knowledge of Japanese cuisine, even though he had no clue why, so he hosted a Japanese themed supper that earned him rave reviews. He discovered he enjoyed entertaining as long as Susan accompanied him. They made a great team. She brought out a side of him that he didn't know was there.

One of Susan's favorite activities was the Friday night cocktail hour she spent with a group of colleagues on a rotating basis. It wasn't anything like a Happy Hour at some of the dives he had hung out at and normally not something he would have ever dreamed getting involved with. Her friends were doctors, lawyers, stockbrokers-serious New York movers and shakers. They had class, social skills, careers and histories that they could remember. He still felt barely one-step up from 'scruffy drifter'.

She had tricked him into coming to the first one. It was her turn to host the thin and she had just let him think he was coming over to spend the weekend. He'd nearly climbed right back on his Harley when he realized that he'd been maneuvered. But, she encouraged him to give it a try telling him she had confidence in him and her friends were 'real people' many of whom had 'come up through the trenches'. She promised she would never embarrass him and that if after an hour, he wasn't comfortable, he could just slip away until later.

As it turned out, she was right and he got into the whole co-hosting thing with her. He was a fairly competent bartender and mixed up some potent martinis. Of course, sampling his batches probably helped to loosen him up just a little and he enjoyed hearing her friends bantering stories back and forth about their jobs and families.

Her friends were incredibly pro-mutant and pretty interested in his opinions about the politics surrounding the anti-mutant sentiments and the still not- official Mutant Registration Act. He surprised himself at how much of an opinion he was able to express and still keep his feelings in check. As the happy hour got really rolling, conversations got goofier and off-color jokes started flying around. Some of the things that came from Susan's gynecologist friend almost made Logan blush. With as much as he had been around, that was saying a lot. What surprised him most was Susan's skill in telling some of the funniest, raunchiest yarns he had heard in a long while. He could not remember ever laughing and enjoying himself so much and was sorry when the evening wound down and the guests left. Everyone lived in the same neighborhood, so it was kind of funny standing on her front lawn watching 'their' friends weave their way back to their houses along the street.

"How often do you guys do this?" he asked as he dried glass wear.

"Every Friday. We rotate who hosts. Of course, we all can't make it to every one."

"Well, I'm glad you tricked me into this" he conceded, finishing up the last glass.

"I knew you would, babe."

He flopped down on the sofa, "Pretty damn sure of things aren't ya?"

"Absolutely" she agreed and sat in his lap. "And ya know what else I'm sure of Bright Eyes?" she murmured, kissing and nuzzling him gently.

He put his lips to hers, "What?"

"I love you" she replied kissing him harder

He responded in kind, drinking in her words and kiss. Then he pulled back and looked her straight in the eyes. "Say that again."

She locked eyes directly with his, her face serene and loving. "I love you, Logan"

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her even closer to him. "I love you, too" his voice full of emotion. Then he gathered her in his arms, stood up and carried her purposely to the bedroom.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Susan logged onto her e-mail and scanned the list of messages expecting something about Logan's DNA/RNA testing done a few weeks earlier and there it was. She clicked on the icon. A message showed up indicating the information was encrypted. She typed in her code and waited fidgeting and drumming her fingers on the desk. Waiting for code clearances and encryption decoding always annoyed her. She was nervous about the results and really wanted to find someone related to Logan that was still living. The screen displayed a simple message: Matches found. Enter ID for Access. "Bingo" she said to herself.

Just as she was just about to type in the ID she stopped deciding Logan ought to see this first. She picked up the phone on her desk and pressed the number to the Athletics office. It rang about four times and she was just about to hang up when he answered. "Yeah."

"Hey, it's me" she said.

"What's up?"

"I've got your results back. Do you want to come by and check it out?" There was a long pause then she heard him draw a deep breath.

"Umm, yeah." Let me grab a shower first. How about twenty minutes?"

"Ok. I'll be here."

Curiosity got the better of him. "So what did it come up with?"

"The only thing I can tell you is there are five matches but I haven't read the full report. You need to see this first."

"Huh? ... Oh, yeah." Irritation rose in his voice "I'll be there soon." He put the phone back on the charger and went to his room. He felt tense and conflicted about digging into his past and was fearful the whole thing would just lead to more dead-ends. He was tired of dead-ends though he wanted to be hopeful of finding out something but his cynical nature held hope in check. Maybe he should have left the whole mess alone.

He took a shower but it didn't do anything to relieve his tension. He slammed off the water, grabbed a towel and dried off. He cursed as he rummaged through his dresser searching for some clean underwear. Finding the last pair, he made a mental note he needed to do laundry tonight and pulled on pair of jeans, a t-shirt and boots. He ran a comb through his hair and then headed to Susan's office.

Since it was after school hours he found the door open. She had music playing and late afternoon sun was streaming through the westward French doors. Susan was on the phone, pacing around in front of them. She motioned him over to her computer. "I'll be with ya in a sec. I'm having a teenager moment," then continued her conversation.

He wasn't exactly sure what she meant, but he could tell from the look on her face and the tone of her voice she was not pleased with someone. He sat down in front of the computer screen and fidgeted with the mouse, listening.

"Ok, Travis William Harris, you've just argued yourself into a grounding this weekend. I will see you later" she finished and hung up. "Grrrr. That kid is going to drive me crazy, I swear." she exclaimed as she stood behind him.

"What's the problem?" Logan asked.

"Trav wants to head out with a bunch of kids to the Jersey Shore."

"That's a problem?"

"Yes. Especially when there's a Lacrosse Tournament this weekend he argues with me about it."

Logan raised an eyebrow but he knew better than to get into a debate about her sons. It wasn't his business and he was happy to keep it that way. "So, show me what you found out" he asked instead.

Susan reached beside him to key in the password then backed up to allow him to read through the preliminary report. She was intensely curious but this was his business and she was going to give him privacy. She knew he'd share with her, probably sooner than later.

Logan, seeing the report, suddenly decided he wasn't sure he wanted this information. He closed his eyes for a moment but curiosity overcame fear and he read it.

His DNA mapping turned up five matches. Of those, two male relatives were dead and the third unknown. Two female matches were still alive.

He sucked in his breath, unconsciously made fists with his hands, his neck and shoulder muscles tensed. Susan saw this, moved behind him and began to gently massage his shoulders. He didn't relax much.

"Ok, what is this really saying, Sue?"

"That there are five direct relatives."

"How direct?"

"They could be parents, siblings, possibly even children."

The 'children' part hit him like a punch in the stomach. He spun around to face her. "I do_ not_ have kids."

"Hey, relax. We don't know exactly who's who yet."

"How do we find out?"

"Scroll down to the bottom... Now, click on _continue_. "

The screen displayed another security warning. Computers drove Logan crazy and he had no patience for them. Swiftly getting up from the chair he gruffly ordered "you do it."

She shot back, "No. You have to. I'll get you into the secure site but you're going to do it." She pointed at the chair. "Besides, this is where we really violate privacy laws."

He sat down hard with agitation. "Fine."

With her guidance, he finally accessed the necessary site. Susan backed off again, but he told her to stay beside him. He only became more agitated as he read the next bit of information. It was a meaningless list of names, dates and places of birth, dates of death and nothing else. _Just another damned dead end_, he thought. "Screw this." he said harshly and pushed away from the computer. He paced around venting his frustrations. "I thought I was going to get some answers. This shit is useless. How do I even know it's right...?"

She let him vent. Finally, he paused, put his fingers on his temples and heaved a sigh. "I've got a headache." he said closing his eyes.

She went to him and put her arms around him. "I never said this was going to be easy. You're going to have to be a detective. There are search engines that will tell us more. It's going to take time and perseverance and some luck but I promise I'll be here every step of the way."

He relaxed and returned her embrace. "All right. So, how do I do this?"

Standing on tip toes kissed him gently then pulled another chair beside his. "Come here. Let's put this in some kind of order." After a few keystrokes a chart appeared. "Ok. This shows both maternal and paternal matches. Let's organize it by dates of birth" she said and keyed the computer. Pointing at the screen, she continued, "Logically, this female match should be your mother, then this would be your father. Next we have a male relative that's only a maternal match. Here's a female with the same paternal and maternal DNA as yours and the last one is a male that matches the paternal but not the maternal DNA." She could tell he was having a hard time putting the information together. "Let's see if I can make this easier." She hit another keystroke and matched up names with dates of birth. Elizabeth Anne Deschennes Howlett is your mother. A Thomas Logan is your father. Here's you, _James Andrew Howlett,_ born August 12th, 1950, Edmonton, Alberta." She smiled. "Nice sounding name," and continued with organizing the information caught up in the puzzle of it. "It appears this Julia Anne Howlett is fully related sister and finally you've got a John Paul Howlett and a Douglas Kai Logan as half-brothers."

Logan stared at the computer in a trance. He felt like he was on the verge of some memory but quite couldn't grasp it; just a feeling, a feeling that what he was seeing was true and not an implanted memory. His headache grew worse.

The name Howlett rang a bell, but she couldn't quite place. She couldn't wait for him to access the web and run the names for more information.

Logan had his mind on other things, however and was struggling with memories trying to come to light. Suddenly he blurted, "Jamie!" startling Susan. "That's what they used to call me."

"Logan, that's awesome." She cheered and hugged him. "What else?"

He shook his head. "That's all." The strain was beginning to take a toll and he felt strangely tired, his head pounding. He needed a break. He needed a stiff drink. No, he needed to get absolutely plastered, if only he could. He stood abruptly "I need a break...I need to...think about this."

"What do you want to do?" she asked, trying to understand.

"Hell if I know!" he snapped harshly then regretted it. He hated himself sometimes. Extreme stress always brought out the worst in him. "I'm sorry." he said, forcing himself to calm down. He hugged her to him, trying to absorb some of her peaceful nature. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I've just got to go somewhere and think things through."

She searched his face trying to sense what was going on but only saw confusion and pain in his deep brown eyes. "Do you want me to come?" she asked, hesitantly, tenderly.

He kissed her forehead and shook his head no.

"You know where I'll be." She called as he left her office through the french doors which lead outside. She watched him hop on his bike. He gave her a nod with a half-smile and then roared off sending gravel and dust flying.

The commotion he made wasn't unnoticed. Charles Xavier heard the roar of the bike and scanned Logan's mind before he was out of range. He could feel the jumble of emotions and the strain Logan's mind was under as it tried to access more memories. He was concerned about the reaction Logan might have to any breakthroughs and resigned himself to a late night of tracking Logan with Cerebro.

Susan had the forethought to stop by Charles' office on her way home to brief him on what had transpired with Logan. She wanted to know if he knew where Logan might go. He didn't, but it wouldn't be a problem to find him. They both shared the same concern about Logan's reaction to returning memories.

Instead of going straight home, Susan stopped off at Victor and Electra's cottage. They invited her for dinner and she shared the situation. She may have been breaking privacy protocols, but they all had a share in Logan's welfare and had all been working to help him. Victor said he knew where Logan might've gone and offered to go and try to keep him out of trouble. Victor said it was a pretty rough place.

"Great, let's get going" she said.

"Don't think so, miha. It's a rough place, no place for you."

"Vic, I'm an ER doc. I've patched up all the fools who hang out in rough places."

"Si, si." and then he muttered in Spanish.

"Quit acting like the macho protector." Susan replied back to him in Spanish.

"Aye, yi, yi" he rolled his eyes. "I give up. Vamanos."

All three of them headed out to track down Logan, Victor in his truck, Electra with Susan in her Jag.

Callaghan's _was_ a rough place: dark, dingy, ramshackled. It probably couldn't pass a safety inspection for any bribe. Logan was in a dark corner, leaning against the wall with a clear view of the bar and the entry. He'd already downed one bottle of whiskey and was working on a second. He saw them walk in but didn't move, just stared straight ahead.

The three of them approached, sat down at his table. "We've come to lend some moral support, amigo." Victor said.

"I don't remember sending out invitations." Logan retorted flatly.

"Misery likes company." Electra replied as she motioned a waitress to the table. "Tequila, straight up, lime and salt on the side, por favor." The waitress cracked her gum and made a comment about 'fancy sides'.

Susan stayed silent studying the surroundings. She studied Logan, trying hard to understand just what he was going through. She felt like people treated him with kid gloves far too often. Lots of people had bad deals in their lives. Lots of people had traumatic situations. However, adults worked through it, got help and let it go. Yeah, he had the right to try to find out about himself but, good grief, these binges of misery every time something was unearthed about his past, needed to go. He was going to have to grow up-find a way to deal with his issues without reverting to this self-destructive pattern.

Her eyes and face apparently reflected her thoughts. Logan looked at her, looked away, then looked and said "What?" He was could sense her feelings loud and clear and could smell her anger.

She didn't answer him, just continued to bore into him with her gaze.

The drinks arrived. No one said much. Susan got an idea. She really didn't want to verbalize what she was thinking in front of Victor and Electra so she went over to the jukebox. After a few minutes of searching she found what she was looking for. Dropping some coins in, she made her selection.

She sauntered back and then instead of ordering a drink herself, she reached for Logan's bottle and took a slug. It took massive effort to drink it down without coughing. This stuff was cheap junk. She motioned to the waitress. "Glenlivet, please."

"This ain't no Fifth Avenue bistro, lady." The waitress was rude.

"Wild Turkey then." Susan shot back just as rudely. The waitress nodded and went off to fill the order.

Logan was still feeling completely intruded upon. All he wanted to do was be alone, get shit-faced, then go back to his suite at the school and pass out.

The waitress brought Susan's order. She poured a shot and drank. Wild Turkey wasn't her favorite, but at least it wasn't the rot-gut that Logan had been sucking down.

It didn't take long for her to feel its effect. That was a good thing because she was about to tread on Logan's emotional turf, really mess with him in a way that she didn't think anyone ever had. She cared about him enough to risk it. She needed to know how he'd react to someone that he professed to love crossing his boundaries. If he told her to go to hell, he'd be completely within his rights but then she have to make some choices about their relationship.

The song she chose began to play. She got up, took him by the arm, she pulled him over the small dance floor.

"I'm not in the mood to dance" he protested.

She yanked him close. "I dare you to make a scene. Just shut up and listen." The song was an old Eagles song "Get Over It" and she knew being an Eagles fan he'd know it.

It was hard song to dance intimately to, but she kept him close and sang a certain phrases into his ear. _I'd like to find your inner child and kick it's little the ass_, hoping it hit home with him.

"You can really be cold when you want to." he said lowly in her ear.

"Yep."

"What do you want from me, Susan?" he growled.

Refusing to acknowledge his anger, she answered, "To quit withdrawing from the people who care about you and to quit hurting yourself."

He gripped her closer in anger. She gasped and he found control. "How?"

"Just make a choice. You choose whom to trust, you choose your behaviors."

He was genuinely stunned and couldn't remember anyone challenging him like and getting away with it. He couldn't recall anyone ever taking this approach or if they had, he hadn't been able to relate to it. She wasn't simpering or begging him to be "a good boy" and he'd been with women who had. She was just saying; find a different pattern. There are people here who care and won't hurt you or let you fall. The message was hard to accept, but he loved the messenger. He couldn't believe how fast and hard he'd fallen for her and he needed her on a level he couldn't define.

Feeling more relaxed, he returned to the table with her, pouring them both shots of Wild Turkey. Tomorrow was going to be ugly and painful for at least two of them! He could drink himself into a good buzz and briefly to oblivion but it never lasted long. His powers protected him. The few time he remembered any effects had been when he'd abused multiple substances overstressing his powers. He reached across the table for her hand, glancing at his closest friends and then locked eyes with Susan, his heart feeling what he lacked the capacity to express. He kissed her hand and casually said. "Let's get outta here."

The loaded his Harley into Victor's truck and drove back to the mansion. He drove the Jag and Susan rode in silence, allowing him the space she sensed he needed. As they entered the drive, Logan asked her "How can I research my family?"

"I'd start with the internet. I'll help you get logged on tonight, but I've got to get some sleep. It's late and I've got early rounds at the hospital."

The look on his face indicated that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

Then she had a thought. "Hey, if you can hold off until tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back over and we can plow through this stuff together."

He considered for a moment. _Could he wait? Why not? It's only been he didn't know how many years of waiting. What's another twelve hours_? "Yeah. I guess so." He reached to take her hand and bring it to his lips kissing her hand. "Stay with me tonight." He didn't want to be alone and was afraid of the nightmares that were going to start the minute he closed his eyes. He felt if she were with him somehow he'd be shielded him from them. At the very least, she would distract him. To his surprise, she nodded.

They'd been using her place to avoid broadcasting their relationship to impressionable, gossipy, hormonal teenagers at the mansion. However, tonight they strolled into the mansion arm in arm.

Charles had kept vigil for them and noted Logan's calm demeanor glad whatever crisis might have happened had clearly been avoided. One didn't need to be telepathic to know what was on their minds. He bid them a polite goodnight before they ascended the stairs.

Later, in the peaceful darkness of his room, they lay in each other's arms. "James Andrew, I like that name." she whispered.

"I do and I don't remember it, Sue. Does that make any sense?"

"I'm trying hard to picture you as Jamie." Her breath caught in her throat as he touched her.

"Me, too." he chuckled. "I know it's right. I just can't get a grip on why." he kissed her lightly, then more deeply.

"Don't try too, hard, love" she breathed as she returned his kiss. "It'll come back in its own time. You just need the right triggers."

"Maybe." he answered, letting love and passion take over.

He had dream. Not a dream that caused him to eject claws, but a strange dream. When he awoke, he had the strangest sensation in his stomach, like something he ate disagreed with him and he had a pounding headache. Whatever is was, was disturbing enough to make him ask Charles to read his mind the very next day.

Charles had him sit in a chair at eye-level and placed his hands on either side of Logan's temples. "Close your eyes, relax." Charles' voice was a soothing monotone. "Think about your dream last night."

Logan exhaled and tried to relax. It was hard for him to quiet his mind. These sessions were always physically and emotionally draining and returning memories always gave him blinding headaches that his healing ability couldn't easily overcome. If he was a betting man, and he was, he was in for a doozy with this session

Slowly an image formed in his mind, a little boy, jerking bolt upright in his bed with a cry. "Rosie?" he called out. The nanny didn't answer. Trembling, he slid out of bed, made a dash for the door and down the dark hallway to his mother's room. Her bedroom door was locked with strange, scary noises coming from the other side. The boy knocked timidly. "Mommy, I'm scared. Can I come in?"

"What's wrong Jamie?" a woman's voice, not particularly tender, called out.

"There's monsters in my room."

"Jamie, there are no such things as monster" she replied "Go back to bed"

"But mommy... please I'm so scared and my tummy hurts"

"I said go back to bed James Andrew" she commanded angrily "or I'm going to give you something to be really scared about."

The boy was crying. "Mommy, please."

"For god's sake, Liz, take care of the boy" a male voice said. The boy thought he recognized the voice emanating from his mother's room. It sounded like Tom, the groundskeeper but that couldn't be right, not in mommy's room. Maybe it was dad, home again.

The woman opened it with such force and fury that the boy trembling and crying, fell to the floor. He cringed when she reached for his hand.

"Come along" she said grabbing him by the hand leading him back to his room. She switched on the light. "Now, back into bed with you. Just leave the light on. Monster's don't like the light, eh, Jamie"

"My tummy still hurts" he whimpered back.

The woman sighed and smoothed the boys' hair then went into his bathroom. She emerged with an empty trash can and placed it beside his bed. "You're a big boy, Jamie. Mommy has to get her sleep. If you feel sick, just lean over. Don't miss and make a mess. Rose won't be here until tomorrow."

The little boy, utterly defeated, nodded and whispered "_Oui, maman_. _Merci." _ The woman kissed him on top of his curly-haired head and retreated back to her room.

This is where the dream-memory had ended the night before. Logan had jolted awake that night, sweating, a little nauseous and had a curious and uncomfortable pain in his stomach. (Just like the boy in the dream.

Logan came back to himself with a queasy pain in his stomach and the inevitable headache. "That was completely different from anything I ever remember dreaming" he whispered, overwhelmed.

"Indeed" Charles agreed. "Who is the boy? You?"

"I think so. Yeah."

"And the woman?"

"My mother, I guess."

"Can you remember her name?"

"Elizabeth. But I don't remember it. That's the name that came up on the internet search."

"I believe the things that you and Susan are uncovering may have triggered this dream."

"Yeah, that makes sense. But what I want to know is, is this a dream or a memory? I've got nothing to reference it to, well, except some names and birthdates of people that I can't remember."

"What do your instincts tell you?" Charles asked pointedly.

"Memory", he answered as he rubbed his temples trying to quell the throbbing.

"I agree with you. I think if it had been just a dream, you wouldn't have relived the physical symptoms. But, I'm grateful that this was much milder than our sessions dealing with your adamantium skeleton."

"Yeah, I guess so. Those were kind of rough."

"I think as more memories come back you should keep a journal about them."

"Eh?"

"The moment you wake up from one of your dreams or emerge from a flashback, write it down. Then you can reflect on it, which may be more useful than sessions that leave you nothing concrete to reflect on."

He cocked his head in thought, mulling it over. It seemed logical but also like a pain in the neck and another thing to prevent a good nights' sleep. He wasn't even sure of his ability to write concisely.

Reading his thoughts Charles added "You might think about verbally recording your dreams. A program could easily be set up on a computer for you... and yes, Logan..." Charles cut off his next thought "you do need to become more computer savvy."

He shook his head and smirked. "Okay, okay. I'll get together with Scott and learn how to set it up."

"Perhaps Susan would be a better choice. That way the programming could be more easily configured to work here at the school and her home." Charles smiled knowingly and it wasn't lost on Logan.

He crossed his arms on his chest. "Just where else did you go in my mind?"

"Trust me, I don't go any where I am not invited. Believe me, no one has to be a mind reader to see the positive changes since you and Susan have been together."

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, thanks. I've got to get back to classes."

"You're welcome."

Logan left Charles then cruised by Susan's office but she hadn't returned yet. The rest of the morning went by in a surreal fog. He couldn't get his mind off his dream except to think about what his computer search might uncover today. At times, he felt like he was on the verge of a memory and his head would start to throb then something would distract him and the memory would slip away.

Susan arrived her office a little after two. She saw Logan out on the practice fields with the older boys. She had been mulling over the Howlett name, trying to connect it to something. Then it finally came to her as she was going by the TV room. Someone had left the TV on and she saw "This has been a test of the Canadian Broadcast system and HME- Howlett Media Enterprises." We now return to our regularly scheduled programming."

She froze in her tracks. _Of course_, she thought then bolted to her office and turned on the computer. She logged onto a search engine and typed in HME, LLC, trying to confirm any kind of connection to Logan. She surfed information about CEO's and Board of Directors. "This is way too easy" she said aloud. On her screen appeared CEO- Julia Anne Howlett and Chairman of the Board-Emeritus- Elizabeth Deschenes Howlett.

Susan couldn't contain her excitement and punched the phone number to Logan's office hoping he'd finished outside. He didn't answer so she left him a voice mail.

Fifteen minutes later, he rang back. "What's up?"

"Logan, I may have hit serious pay dirt here. How soon can you come over?"

"Right now." he answered then clicked off and sprinted to her office. He used the quicker west entrance overlooking the school grounds instead of going through the school. "What have ya got?" he asked breathlessly.

She got up from the chair and motioned him to take her place. "Check this out" she pointed at the screen.

Logan read through the information, tension rising in him. He saw the same names that Susan had read. Susan, standing behind him, felt it and started kneading his shoulders.

He heaved a deep exhale. "How'd you find this?"

"Pure luck, hon. I saw it as I was walking by the TV room" she explained to him.

"Freakin' unbelievable!" he said.

"And you James Andrew Howlett" she pronounced purposefully. "come from some seriously powerful people and I might add- loaded. Howlett Media Enterprises is TV, newspapers, magazines, everything for central and western Canada."

Logan got up, paced around running his hands through his hair, trying to absorb the whole thing. All he could do was shake his head.

"It may be fairly easy to get more information" she added. "I have a hunch where to start." She sat back down. "Logan is it okay if I search this out or do you want to do this on your own?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "No way do I want to do this myself! I hate computers. Please, search away." He pulled up a chair beside her, watching her log into another search engine and type names and dates. She had a hunch she'd find archived 'society pages' and she wasn't wrong.

She searched the entire Howlett family history from the 1890's to recent times, using the Edmonton Star Society Pages, City and Country magazine and other sources: Engagements, weddings, births, graduations, glittering and scathing reviews, gossip of parties, charity events, obituaries, and coverage of a double murder.

Then she let him read through everything while she saw patients. He read his parent's engagement announcement which was a large spread, including a full newspaper page covering their wedding and a picture of the handsome couple. Logan was surprised by the apparent age difference between his parents. In what was obviously a carefully done wedding picture, his mother appeared to be barely in her twenties and his father clearly in his forties. He read the caption under the photo announcing the sumptuous wedding of John and Elizabeth Howlett. There were small pictures and captions of parties and events that his parents attended or hosted . He read the birth announcement of his older brother John the Fourth and then his own. The birth announcements included photos of the happy, growing family.

The whole thing was really beginning to freak him out. He was looking at concrete evidence of his past life and he could not remember any of it. Periodically, he would get up and pace and stretch and crack his joints. He would mutter and curse quietly. It was fascinating, bizarre, painful and wonderful all at once. It was also beginning to become too much. "Susan, can you store this stuff in the hard drive or a disk or something?" he asked finally.

"Yes. Either one."

"Good, do it. We both need a break. Let's go somewhere to eat."

She saved the data then they went to a pizza place. Eating in near silence she studied his expression trying to gauge what he was thinking. He looked distant and pained. "Yoo-hoo, where are you?" she asked.

He just shook his head and chugged his beer. Then, very quietly said, "I just keep running all this stuff through my head and ...well... for all I know I could be looking at _anybody's_ life. I know the DNA tests are as infallible as possible but, damn it, Sue I'm having a hard time with it. I can't make the leap of..." he struggled for the right words. "I can't make the leap of faith. I need to see or meet one of these people. I gotta have somebody tell me they knew me...that I'm really this person."

"You could do that. Your mother's still alive."

"Oh, yeah. I going to stroll up to an eighty-something year old woman and say "I'm your long lost son. How's it going? Come on Sue, there is a reason I don't remember her or my childhood."

"Did you ever think that maybe she might be looking for you?"

"She probably thinks I'm dead."

"Don't be so morbid."

"Why not?"

She just shook her head. "Let's research some more. There's too many unanswered questions to make even preliminary assumptions."

"Right." he was getting irritated and sarcasm sounded in his voice. "What about this DNA that connects me to this Thomas Logan. I haven't found anything on this guy so far..."

"Where are you going with this?" Susan cut in.

"The DNA say's he's a perfect match, but John Howlett's not, right?" he continued

"Uh, huh."

"So if I'm a perfect match to Thomas Logan, then how does the Howlett name connect to me?"

She sighed and reached for his hand, "It's still too soon to draw conclusions. You've only just started going through the very first stuff we've found. I'm sure there's an explanation. Just try to relax and keep an open mind."

"I'm trying. Let's go back. I want to go through more of it. Susan, how can I get a hold of my birth certificate?"

"I'll try and find out for you. In the US it's pretty easy. I'm not sure about Canada."

Logan took the downloaded information and stole away to his room while Susan worked for a few hours in her office. She didn't have much luck trying to access an actual birth certificate so she sent out some discrete e-mails to some trusted colleagues for advice but it would be at least Monday before she'd get any answers. She wandered up to his suite. His stereo was going at full volume playing Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. _Oh boy,_ she thought, _he's in a really black mood._

She'd discovered that he listened to music that reflected his moods. When he was feeling mellow or relaxed it was CSN&Y, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Santana, Doobie Brothers or something like that. Neutral or good moods then the Eagles, Bob Seeger, Steppenwolf, Zeppelin, Springsteen but in bad or depressed moods it Pink Floyd or some of the Doors darker stuff. She tapped on the door. When he didn't answer she let herself in.

He sensed her and glancing up from his computer, gave her a tired smile. "Glad your back."

"How's it going?" she asked as she turned down his stereo.

"I've read it through once and have been going back over some things..." he stood to stretch. "...I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

"Okay." She wasn't too surprised. "Listen, do you want me to go home tonight and give you some space?"

He exhaled deeply "I don't know" and looked away.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." she said giving him a hug "I'm not too sure you're going to sleep tonight but if you do, this might be one of those nightmare nights that you keep warning me about."

He embraced her in return and gave her a grateful kiss. "You're the best. I'll call ya in the morning."

CHAPTER EIGHT

He retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden in his closet, then went back to reading article about a pair of murders that happened the summer of 1966, just weeks prior to his sixteenth birthday, disturbing him profoundly that he couldn't remember. Sometime around three a.m. he gave into fatigue. Staring at the computer screen for hours on end gave him a headache and made his eyes feel like they were crossing and swallowing down large quantities of alcohol probably didn't help. He went to his bathroom, rid himself of the large quantity of alcohol and then flopped across his mattress, face first and passed out, asleep, in minutes. It wasn't long before the dreams began. He tossed and thrashed about crying out in anguish in his sleep. His claws ejected and tore up the bedding, and then awoke with a violent shudder, drenched in sweat, shaking and breathing heavily with a painful burning in his gut.

He got up, went over to his desk and began to try and record what he dreamt. It was hard. Details of the dream were already receding from his conscious mind but he managed to type out a respectable outline. As the sun came up, he read over what he typed. Then suddenly, like watching a TV movie, he had a flashback.

He was nearly sixteen years old, tall, painfully thin and gangly, with all the imperfections that plague boys at that age. He could see his mother, Elizabeth, a well-kept, auburn-haired beauty. Tall, shapely, aristocratic, she reminded him of Jean. His father, John, was tall, thinly built, with light brown hair and blue eyes, his speech touched with a British accent. There was another man present, though he struggled for a moment with the memory. It was Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper. A tall, muscular, strong and rough man, he had dark wavy hair, weathered complexion and deep brown eyes, and tonight obviously very intoxicated. They were all in the study, a lavish room with a huge mahogany desk, walls of books, leather chairs, an ornate fireplace and dark, rich paneling. Logan could suddenly remember spending hours in this room, pouring over books. He also remembered spending a few uncomfortable times in front of that massive desk, afraid of explaining to his father why he was being expelled from yet another school.

This night he was outside the study's slightly open door, listening to harsh and hateful words between his parents and Tom. His father was recounting his mother's indiscretions with Tom. Their voices got angrier as the conversation continued, his father saying he'd had enough of his wife's affair with Tom Logan and he was divorcing her. Proceedings would begin as soon as possible and she and her bastard children would be turned out as soon as it could be discretely arranged.

His mother shouted, "I'll fight you. You've not been perfect these twenty five years and you accepted James as your own! The courts will back me up.

His father scoffed. "Perhaps I haven't been perfect, but at least there was no evidence."

If you want to get technical, Elizabeth, James' birth certificate lists Thomas as his father.

Think how the courts would look upon that. Another thing, if you think I'll play the fool a second time, you're sadly mistaken."

Furious, she fired back. "You only care about your precious reputation. Think of the field day the tabloids would have if they only knew about the great John Howlett. I could make a fortune if I spilled to the press about your double life."

He returned the volley. "Shall we talk about your motherhood skills? Perhaps the tabloids would enjoy hearing how the devoted Elizabeth Howlett couldn't be bothered when her sons lay dying from polio. Unfortunately the wrong child died."

"You bastard!" she screamed. "I came as fast as I could. Who delayed cabling me?"

His dad declared he would speak no more of this and turned his attention to Thomas Logan. "Jamie's your son, isn't he?" Pointing his finger toward his mother's belly, "and so is this one."

Thomas was silent.

His father continued. "Just as I expected, too much a coward to admit it. So be it. You're fired. I want you off my property immediately. You're welcome to take your whore and bastard son along."

Fury building, Thomas replied. "No man calls me a coward and gets away with it. From what I hear, you're not even a man. Ya got money and power, but you're nothin' but a faggot."

"Get out now."

Through the cracked door, Logan saw his father reach into a desk drawer and then spied

Thomas pulling a gun from under his jacket. Logan felt himself push open the door and yell just as his Mom screamed and Tom pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced his father through the heart and he watched in horror as his father crumpled to the floor. Nooo! He screamed.

His mother screamed at Tom, "You stupid fool!" and backed away.

Logan felt himself pummeling Tom with his fists who reacted by slamming the boy with a one- two punch to the face and then gut, dropping him to the floor, nose broken and bleeding, gasping and retching from the gut punch. He felt the steel toe of Tom's boot kicking him.

His mother screamed and ran to his side "Stop it, you'll kill him, too."

"I'll kill you both." Tom hissed and pointed the gun at his mothers face.

Logan remembered the threat that Tom posed. He remembered a feeling of helplessness and then he remembered a terrifying feeling of overwhelming rage. He broke into a sweat and began to shake. The pain from the punches diminished and he clenched his muscles in his jaw, arms, his hands tightening into fists. In that moment, sensing danger to his mother, something happened that would change him forever. Suddenly everything became sharper, more vibrant. Sound was amplified. His sense of smell became so keen, it almost made him ill. Adrenalin gave him a sense of invincibility and bone claws sprang from his knuckles. Suddenly he bellowed and sprang at Tom, ripping out his throat.

Tom managed to fire the gun, the bullet tearing into Logan's abdomen, then fell back strangling in his own blood. Logan felt himself collapse and writhe in agony beside Tom, his real father.

Logan shaking so hard, could barely type. He could feel the phantom pain of the bullet. There was no way he could record what he was remembering, re-living and his emotional controls were slipping away. Trying to calm himself, he sprinted out of his room, his mind a confused jumble of images and emotions. He ran as hard as he could out of the mansion into the early morning chill and he continued to run through the trimmed gardens and lawns then into the woods. Finally, out of breath and tiring, he slowed his pace and came to a stop. Breathing hard, emotions still running amok, he ejected his claws and just began slashing brush and small trees. Then it hit him. _He had_ _these claws even before he had been experimented on fifteen years ago!_ He laughed at the absurdity of it as he retracted them. Then a terrifying thought crossed his mind. _How many had he killed and didn't remember? Had he only killed to defend or protect? Or something else? His gut told him he was not a cold-blooded murder, yet he had a doubt._

_Oh my God,_ he cried out. _I killed my own father_! _How much more shit am I going to keep digging up? _ _Why can't I have just one good memory? Does everything have to be a fucking nightmare? _ A sense of despair crept over him. He wasn't sure he had the guts to keep digging into his past if it was all going to be so negative. It seemed like whatever or whomever he became involved with eventually turned into disaster or death.

The urge to just run, to shut everything and everyone out was nearly overwhelming. Reaching out to anyone, when he felt so much pain and self-hatred, was still not second-nature to him and probably never would be. He started back to the mansion with the resolve to slip back in, pack up his stuff, jump on his bike and split. He had to go. It was the only way to protect everyone he had come to care about.

As fate would have it, Charles was wheeling around the mansion on his normal early morning 'rounds'. Slipping inside through the kitchen, Logan was broadcasting such strong emotions, that Charles immediately knew something was very wrong. Charles spoke directly to Logan's mind. **Logan, come to my office, now.**

Logan tried to ignore the voice in his head and strode toward the stairs without acknowledging Charles.

**Logan, you are going on a path that you don't need to. Let me help.**

"Nobody can help" Logan hissed. "Now get outta my head."

"Very well. Listen to me You're not thinking rationally. You've convinced yourself of something that is not so. Logan, you're a good man but you've had to survive some extraordinary things in your lifetime.

"Good men don't go off in wild rages and slash everything in sight." Logan shouted, his voice shaking with rage. "Good men don't kill their own father." Then Logan sank down on a stair step, his voice lower, sounding defeated "The more I find out about myself... none of its good...Who else have I killed?" He closed his eyes and hung his head.

Charles spoke calmly, reassuringly, "Everything I know about you convinces me that you do_ not_ and have not killed indiscriminately." With conviction, he continued, "If I had _any_ doubts about you, believe me you wouldn't be part of this school or part of the X-Men.

Scott and some students were making their way downstairs. "Morning, Charles, Logan." Scott said cautiously, sensing the tension. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Logan growled not bothering to look up.

"Logan and I are having a discussion that I think needs to be continued in my office." Charles said. Scott caught onto the fact that his presence was not helpful and beat a quick exit.

Logan reluctantly followed Charles into his office. "I guess you want to see what's going on in this fucked up mind of mine, eh?"

"Only if you want me to and only if I can help."

"I'm not sure anything can help." He paced nervously around Charles' office then stopped in his tracks and looked Charles directly in the eye. "You know what would really help? One good memory. Just one. Everything I dig up only triggers memories of death and pain. Was there ever anything good in my miserable life?"

"I've not seen you this negative in your outlook, Logan. Will you share your memories with me?"

"Only if we go down to the med lab and you restrain me. I tore up my bed pretty bad."

"Very well."

Once in the med lab, arms restrained, Charles found Logan's mind a chaotic mess and it was evident he was still trying to process what he recently remembered. What ever it was clearly stripped away deeply held assumptions Logan had built his fragile psyche around. He was going to have to 'tread' very carefully, less he tip Logan into self-protective rage. Several times he thought to stop, fearful of Logan's agitated state but each time Logan pleaded him not to and he kept on. 'Seeing' what Logan had gone through in 1966 made Charles regret setting Logan on this path. Perhaps he'd done more harm than good. As a psychiatrist, the thought of harming anyone who had asked for help was reprehensible. He exited Logan's mind, clearly exhausted both physically and mentally.

Logan, on the table still in restraints, was also tapped out in mind and body. "Now you see why I have to go, don't you Charles?"

"I understand why you _think_ you have to leave. I don't think that's the solution." Charles wheeled around to undo the restraints then Logan swung his legs over the side of the table and sat up. "Ugghh, headache." he groaned and rubbed his temples. "How can you say that, Charles? It's only a matter of time before something sets me off."

"Listen to me. You have convinced_ yourself_ that you are a homicidal maniac but you're not. You seem not to _want _to see that you tried to_ protect_ your mother. Had your mutant gifts not manifested themselves at that moment in your life, we wouldn't even be having this conversation..."

Logan just stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Charles like he was soft in the head. "Charles, I killed my own father..."

"_In defense of your mother_ and_ that_ father shot _you_. Dammit, Logan, you seem to want to ignore that." It was rare for Charles to display this level of frustration.

"So, you want me to just stay around? You're still willing to trust me?"

"I never lost trust in you. You have convicted yourself of a crime you_ never_ committed. As for staying here, that's your choice. It always has been. You're a competent and valuable member of the Team and you're becoming a skilled coach. The children benefit from your skills and care."

Logan tried hard not to be influenced by what he was saying. Stay or go? Both had good and bad points. Staying was going to be hard, running would be easy. Staying would keep people he had grown to care for and love near. Running would make him free, independent and lonely. Staying would make him continue to face his demons but then so would running. At least if he stayed, he'd have someone to help him through the rough patches. A vision of Susan crossed his minds-eye and DID NOT want to leave her. Finally he exhaled deeply and spoke with conviction. "Alright, I'll stay until the end of the school year."

"I appreciate that Logan." Charles answered and did not push for more.

"I'm going out for a ride." Logan announced, leaving the med lab. He climbed on his bike and headed west, toward the Catskills.

CHAPTER NINE

When Susan didn't get a call from him by afternoon, she tried not to worry, but did anyway. Though they had only been involved for barely over a month, Logan had proved reliable about contacting her when he said he would. Last night he said he'd call her in the morning and morning on a Saturday, meant eleven-ish going by his definition. _Maybe he'd had a rough night and was sleeping in_ she told herself. _I'll catch up with him at School before my ride. _Her plan was to give a riding lesson then go for a long work out on her horse

On the drive over to School, she reflected on his moods, which had been all over the place, the last couple of days. She'd hoped the incident in the bar would have diffused things, but still sensed a lot of stress just beneath the surface, kind of like a gathering thunderstorm. _How bad could it be,_ she thought?

When she arrived at the School, she entered through the kitchen. Marie, Bobby, Jubilee and Kitty were munching on nachos.

"Hi, guys." Susan greeted. "What's going on?"

"Not much." Marie answered. "We're just tryin' to stay out of sight. Every time an adult sees us, they want us to do chores."

"Awww, poor kids. Life is so demanding." Susan chided. "Any of y'all seen Logan?"

"I saw him this morning talking to the professor." Bobby answered. "Maybe he's still in the professors' office or something."

"No, the professor was just down by the stable less than half hour ago." Kitty added.

"That's ok, I'll find him" Susan said and took the back staircase to Logan's suite.

She was surprised to find the door to his room ajar. "Logan." she called quietly. "Hey Bright eyes, it's me." No answer. She rapped and called a bit louder. She didn't hear the shower or anything so she stepped into the room and immediately noticed the torn up bedding. _Oh no. He'd definitely had a bad night._ She noticed the computer still on- his screen saver wavering with the colored cubes. Curiosity got the better of her and she wiggled the mouse bringing up on the screen what Logan had documented of his nightmare/memory.

Her heart broke when she read it and she became very worried. _Where is he? What's he_ _doing?_ Charles would know something so she tracked him down finding him on the patio that spanned the area between her office and his. He seemed lost in reflection as she approached.

"He's gone for a ride on his motorbike." he answered before she could ask. Then before she could ask her next question, he said, "...It depends on your definition of alright."

"Please don't do that" she pleaded.

He smiled apologetically "Very well. I'm sorry."

""What happened?" she asked

"Are you inquiring as his doctor or..." Charles paused and debated his next words, but there was no delicate way. "...his lover?"

"Touché, Charles. I'd be less than honest if I didn't say both."

"I appreciate your honesty, Susan." he replied and then proceeded to describe what had transpired between him and Logan that morning.

"So, the bottom line is all we can do is wait until he decides to come back." she summarized.

"I could track him with Cerebro, but I'm not willing to invade his space unless there is imminent danger."

"Professionally, I agree with you, but personally, I want you to go ahead and track him."

"I propose a compromise. If he doesn't return by Sunday afternoon than I shall."

"Works for me. Thanks. In the meantime, Charles, I'm going to be all over the place today. Contact me on my cell for anything, ok?"

The rest of her day and the evening dragged by. She worried about him, got mad at him for pulling a disappearing act, and then finally gave in to a restless sleep sometime after midnight.

Logan finally did return, pulling into her driveway around two Sunday morning. Sleeping lightly, she heard his motorcycle rumble into the drive and got up to let him in the house. It took her about ten seconds to assess his condition as he stumbled into the foyer and sat on the stairway, holding onto the railing to steady himself. He was drunk out of his mind.

"Didja miss me?" he slurred and belched loudly

Susan stared at him incredulously, debating whether to be furious or sympathetic. She decided that he would have no clue tomorrow morning, either way, so her goal became to safely settle him in and wait until he sobered up. Aware of his mutation, she couldn't imagine how much he'd consumed to get himself in this condition. _Any one else would've died of alcohol poisoning by now,_ she thought. "Oh, you idiot. What have you done?"

"Well, I sure missed ya." he said as he tried to get to his feet and stumbled forward. She could barely steady him. Her five-feet-three, against his six-feet-three, just wasn't up to the task.

"Come on babe, I want some lovin" he slurred

"Just shut up. You're wasted and there's just no way that's happening tonight."

"You're damned right I'm wasted. It feels good too."

"Tell me that tomorrow, Bright Eyes, especially the 'feels good' part." She wrapped her arm around his waist and started to lead him toward the back of the house. "I'm going to tuck you in on the sun porch and you're going to sleep this off."

"Why ya puttin' me out here? Yer pissed, aint ya?" He belched again, the smell of alcohol on his breath disgusting.

"You're sleeping out here tonight because in about an hour or so your body is going to start getting rid of whatever it is you've ingested and it's not going to be pleasant."

"Hell, Susie. I'm ….fine. Never had….. a problem. ….Well,….. maybe a long time ago." He sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles and couldn't put a string of thoughts together.

She pushed him down onto the chaise lounge on the porch. "Stay." she ordered and then went back into the house to get a blanket and an empty garbage can. Semi-conscious and just mumbling nonsense when she returned, she covered him and placed a garbage can beside him. Then shaking him by the shoulder, she said sarcastically, "Logan, do us both a favor, when you start to puke, don't miss the can. I'm not cleaning up after you and you don't want to replace the cushions."

"Huh? " his eyes snapped open and he struggled to focus "What?" He struggled to understand what she was saying. " I'm not…… gonna…."

"Yeah, whatever." Maybe he wouldn't. His healing might be that effective. "Good night, Logan." She went back into the house, pausing at the door to check him once more "I love you, you fool." she said too quietly for him to hear. Just then she heard a change in his breathing and he moaned, coughed and gagged. O_h crud_, she thought and went to his side. "Sit up! Right now!" she ordered, punching his shoulder and shaking him. "Right here!" She guided him to the can just in time saving the chaise cushions and preventing him from having to heal from aspiration, but she didn't go to him for round two. By then, he'd purged his system enough he was conscious enough to handle things by himself though his aim was off leaving him a special clean-up job in the morning.

At about eight as she was getting ready for church, he came stumbling in from the porch,

looking gray-ish green, his eyes red-rimmed , barely able tolerate the daylight. He plunged directly for the john.

"And how are we on this lovely Sunday morning?" she asked with all the false cheeriness she could muster as he re-emerged.

"Perfect" he answered with the same false cheeriness and went over to the sink splashing cold water on his face and drinking from cupped hands. "I've got the perfect headache, the perfect stomach ache, the house won't quit spinning and my mouth tastes like a shit-wagon."

"Poor baby. I thought your mutation didn't allow for such misfortunes."

"It doesn't usually but, I really screwed up yesterday." He gripped the edge of the sink trying to steady himself. "Shit" he moaned then gagged and threw up the water he just drank into the sink.

Susan could only giggle. "You'll forgive me if I'm not very sympathetic?"

"Just give a guy some space to puke in peace" he panted trying to keep from heaving.

"You've got it, babe. You go worship the porcelain alter, while I go off and worship the God of Mercy. I'll pray that you receive some mercy." Before she left, she brought him a liter bottle of club soda, phenergan and four ibuprofen. "Take these and be still for a while and I think you might just live."

"Please tell me these are cyanide pills. Living isn't something I feel like doing right now." He was still hanging over the sink fighting with his stomach and not really winning.

"Trust me, sweetie. If you take the club soda slowly, it and the phenergan will settle your stomach. Part of your problem is your stomach is really irritated and I think you overtaxed your healing ability. Just what did you abuse yourself with?"

"A lot of booze" he sputtered "and some... other things."

"What other things?... Never mind, I really don't want to know. I'll see you in an hour or so and we can really talk." Susan wrinkled her nose, turned and left him to his misery.

Church was pretty much ruined as she contemplated Logan and the previous night. She was furious with his stupidity and she was going to let him know it. When she returned home, she stormed into the house purposely slamming the door. She found him sprawled on the couch, showered and looking a tad better, his healing abilities finally counteracting last nights binge.

"Shit" he moaned reacting to the slamming door. "What was that for?"

"All right, James Andrew Howlett or Logan or who ever you are. I'm going to say what's on my mind."

"Huh? Can't we have this conversation later?"

"No."

"Can you turn the volume down?"

"No."

"Fine. Have it your way then." he said resignedly "Be gentle, please. I know I royally screwed up and believe me I am paying the price."

"First off, I want to know _wha_t you ingested. Everything I know about you says alcohol doesn't mess you up this much."

"Crystals" he answered matter-of-factly.

She paused, utterly stunned. She had to think for a moment to remember what the slang term stood for. "As in methamphetamines?" she gasped. "Now I understand. Your body can't compensate for the drugs and alcohol together. Didn't you know that?"

He nodded but wouldn't look her in the eyes.

"Damn it, Logan! How could you be so stupid? I'm not talking about getting wasted and high. You can abuse yourself to kingdom come if you want to. But, it's how you did it. You put people at risk. You drove under the influence. That's unforgivable. Do you know how lucky you are that you didn't kill someone? And all because you were freaking out about killing someone in self-defense, you pull a stupid, thoughtless, criminal stunt like this!" She was red-faced and shaking with fury. Letting him have it with both barrels was completely justified in her mind. "If you _had_ hurt someone, well, then I guess you would have a _real_ reason to freak out." The hurt, shamed look on Logan's face stopped her short. "I didn't mean ….I mean, I saw your notes in your room… I…. understand your pain." her voice softened "I just can't understand how you let yourself get so out of control that you might hurt or kill an innocent. I didn't think that was who you are."

Logan leaned his head against the back of the sofa, clenching his jaw and fists the selfishness of his actions hammering his conscience. He_ wasn't_ like that. He'd _never_ deliberately hurt an innocent at least as far as he could remember and had nearly died a couple of times trying to save them.

There was a long silence and a frightening realization hit Susan. "Were you trying to kill yourself?" she asked trying to keep her voice even.

Logan shook his head then answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Not myself, just the pain."

"But drugs! My god, Logan. Why"

"It works, lets me forget for a while." Substance, like heroin rarely caused him anything but a moment or two of impairment, but man-made substances, like Crystal Meth, if mixed with massive quantities of alcohol were more effective. "Everything I turn up about my past sucks." he said his tone desperate. "Everything is a nightmare or an ugly flashback. Just pain and disaster and death." his voice cracked "Why can't I have just one good memory? Why?"

She saw the anguish on his face, in his eyes. She sat beside him taking his hands into hers, didn't say anything as she pulled him gently to her. Resting his head on her shoulder, he shuddered fighting against emotions he did not want to feel. "I'm sorry, Logan. I wish to God I had something to say to ease this" and she smoothed his hair like a mother for a hurting child.

He was silent for a while and then said "I was going to run out again, yesterday."

Susan nodded that she knew.

"I told Charles I'd stay to the end of the term. Then... I just don't know."

Susan's breath caught but she tried hard to mask it. "Where would you go?"

"I don't know. Where ever the road leads. Probably up north again. I might try to locate Elizabeth Howlett. I've got some questions I want to ask."

"Then what?" Susan asked her voice quivering slightly.

"That's too far ahead. I don't know."

"Would you come back?"

"Would you wait for me?"

"I'd try."

"I guess that's fair." he answered. He pulled away from her embrace and leaned his head on the back of the couch fighting emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

They were both silent for a long time before Susan finally spoke again, her gaze fully on his face and her voice was shaky. "I don't want what I'm about to say keep you from doing what you need to about figuring out your past. ...but when you say you're going to go, it sounds to me like your talking about for good." Tears threatened to overflow. "I fell in love with you. I didn't want to, I didn't need to, but, God help me, I did and I don't want you to go _anywhere_, at least not permanently." "Go confront Elizabeth Howlett, get the real story from the source, resolve it then come back to me."

He reached out and drew her to him. "I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid you're going to get enough of my B.S. and kick my sorry ass out. Leaving would hurt me less than losing you."

"Maybe I should but I don't want to." Tears ran down her cheeks. "You and I are total opposites. _We_ shouldn't be_ a we_ by any rational thinking, but _we are_ and I _want_ it to stay that way... And another thing, I don't care what your past turns up, even if you were the worst possible weirdo, sicko, I don't care. It's a past I've never shared. I only know what you are now and I believe in you."

"Could you put any more pressure on a guy?" he asked, gently raising her face to look at him and pressing a kiss to her lips.

"I won't throw anything at you that I don't think you can handle." she replied.

"I believe that but I'm not sure the rest of the world goes along with that." Then he kissed her again, a kiss of hope, tender with love and desire.

"Am I to understand that your healing abilities have kicked back in?" she murmured.

"Oh, yeah. All of a sudden, I feel really good and I'm gonna prove it to ya, lady."

"I don't know how you can shift gears so fast but you go for it, boy." She said and kissed him hard.

Later as they lay entwined together on the couch, Logan asked "Sue," Logan asked "When did you first love me?"

"What? Oh! I'm not sure it was any one moment." She propped her elbows onto his chest to look him in the eyes. "I guess the first time I felt something was that night I heard you playing piano."

Logan chuckled. "No way. That's the night I though I messed things up permanently."

"Oh no, honey. Something about you... you're just a different person when you play piano or guitar. There's a sense of calm and peace and gentleness that comes over you. You're going to hate me for saying this, but, you have the face of an angel when you are playing. You're just... beautiful."

"Geez. Don't tell anybody. You'll ruin my reputation."

"I swear, your secret is safe with me." She giggled. "There was another time that sealed fate, though."

"Yeah? What?"

"When you helped me set Tyler's arm."

"Really?"

"Really. It was obvious to me you were pretty uncomfortable but you came through with such grace. You really held that little boy together. I think I started to love you then."

He looked surprised.

"When did you first know you loved me?" she queried.

He pulled his arms tight around her and sighed. "Don't laugh, but it was love at first sight, baby."

"Logan, we're talking love here, not lust."

"Yeah, I know. I'm serious."

She was truly touched. "Awww. That's so, cute, so romantic."

"By the way, Dr. Harris, if we're talking lust, how about that Saturday morning back in March? I seem to remember it was _you_ who got pretty darn frisky. Am I right?"

Susan blushed. "I have no idea what came over me. Call it mid-life crisis."

"Hey, whatever ya call it, it worked for me."

"You horney dog, you." She punched his shoulder and laughed.

"Right. Who jumped who?"

Suddenly Susan's business phone rang. She moved to answer it but he held her back. "Forget it. You're not on call are you?"

"No. But, if it's this phone, it's important." She broke from his embrace and picked it up. "Dr. Harris, here." It was Charles Xavier. "Oh. What time is it? Everything's fine. Absolutely no need to activate 'search and rescue'. He's right here. He came home about two, this morning." She saw no need to elaborate on his condition when he had returned.

Logan watching her, guessed who she was talking to.

"I should have called sooner, Charles. I'm sorry. We were just hashing things out. He's ok. Here, talk to him yourself" and handed the phone to Logan. "Tell the man you're alive and well." she said and retreated to dress.

She was in the closet debating what to wear when Logan came quietly up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and gently nuzzled her hair. "Hey, whatcha doin'?" she asked letting herself melt into him and realized that he was in the mood again.

"Checkin' out the possibilities for round two" he purred.

"So, you want to spend the whole day in bed?"

For reply he just lifted her up, hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed, laughing, kicking and pounding on his back in mock protest. As he lowered her to the soft bedding she got an ornery gleam in her eyes and just as he was about to get serious, tickled his chest then gave him a quick pinch in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah. Let's see who's more ticklish" he said and began tickling her.

It took her a few tries to find his ticklish spot but once she did, she had him 'begging for mercy'. In the end, laughing and gasping for breath, they declared a draw.

"I'm grateful you didn't turn me away last night" he said, as he lay on his back recovering.

"If I'd known what you were really using last night, I would have." her tone was strong. "Don't _ever_ come back here like that again."

"Fair enough. I've used maybe three times in the last fifteen years but I can guarantee you that I'm not going to again. I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it together while I'm going through all this stuff about my past."

"What can I do to help?" she asked.

"Just be there."

"I can do that, darling." she smiled.

He smiled back at her and kissed her. "I need you Susan." The urge to make love to her again came on strong.

"Logan, honey, do you never wear out?"

"Umm. I don't know. We could keep at it and see if I do."

(to be continued, if I can download it properly next time around)


	2. Chapter1012

CHAPTER TEN

Susan's contract at Xavier's School for Gifted Children didn't require she do anything but practice medicine, but when an interesting opportunity presented itself, she was game. That was the case when Marie and Jubilee asked her to help plan a prom. There were four high school seniors this year, the largest group in many years. The last time a prom had been held was for Scott, Jean and Storm. Susan thought it was a great idea and agreed to bring it up at the next faculty meeting.

Predictably most of the Team thought it was a great idea and were more than willing to pitch in. Also predictably, Logan expressed, "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard." His comment was ignored. Most of the faculty was used to his bluntness and occasionally disrespectful behavior during meetings.

Susan was not and after the meeting had been dismissed she purposely went to Logan's office. Closing the door quietly behind her, she drew a deep breath. "I need to talk to you."

He casually swung around in his chair. "Ok. What's up?" He sensed anger from her. More seriously, he questioned, "What's wrong?"

"You're behavior in the meeting was unacceptable and your comment was insulting."

"What are you talking about?"

"You acted like an ill-mannered, teenaged punk."

He raised his brows in shock, not having a clue what she meant. His attitude infuriated her even more. "The others may put up with your behavior, but I won't. I treat my colleagues with professionalism and I demand the same in return."

"Susie, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh please! Must I list it? Alright Logan…" and she proceeded to expound on proper business meeting behavior and how he did not measure up.

He grew tense and angry as she proceeded to lecture him like a naughty school boy. Finally he snapped. "I've heard enough of this shit!" and he stalked out of his office, slamming the door hard enough to crack the glass.

Round two continued later that evening. Susan attended Travis' Senior Athletic Banquet with Allen, her ex-husband and she had forgotten to mention it to Logan.

In the time since their first harsh exchange, he'd cooled down and was ready to put it behind him so, he thought he'd take her to dinner as a peace offering. When she didn't show up at her house, he called her cell. Since she was at the banquet and not on call, her cell was turned off. _Maybe traffic's bad_ he thought as he waited on her front porch. When an hour had passed and she still hadn't shown, he started to worry. He tried her cell again and only got voice mail. He called School but no one he spoke to knew of her whereabouts. He was wallowing in irritation and worry so when his cell rung, he jumped. The ID indicated it was Electra.

"Miho, I hear you're looking for Susan."

"You heard right."

"I think she said tonight's Travis' banquet, or something like that."

He didn't remember her mentioning it, but that didn't mean she hadn't. "Oh yeah, I forgot." he fibbed. "Thanks." He clicked off his cell. _Looks like it's gonna be a while_ he thought and went to the kitchen for a beer.

After a six pack, enough time to get worked up and hungry as a grizzly bear, she finally returned in a car he didn't recognize and with a man he didn't recognize! He stood on the front porch, arms crossed at his mid section, glaring at the idling SUV in the driveway. She appeared deeply engrossed in conversation with the other man. What was probably only two minutes, but seemed like two hours, she emerged from the SUV, but not before she _kissed _the other man on the cheek. Irritation gave way to bubbling jealousy-fueled anger.

She waved to the other man as the SUV pulled away and then turned to him. "Hey Bright eyes!"

"Who the hell was that?" he growled.

Taken aback, then instinctively realizing where he was coming from and quickly recovering composure she answered succinctly, "_That_ is the father of my children."

Only half-listening, he was about to spout off something derogatory, when her words sunk in. Deflated, he replied "Oh. Ok."

"So glad you approve" she snipped.

"Susie, where the hell were ya tonight? I've been waiting here for hours. I wanted to take ya to dinner."

"Come inside" she said and went into the house. Dropping her purse and sloughing off her jacket, she continued. "Tonight was Travis' Athletic banquet. I thought I told you…Oh maybe I forgot. Pour me some wine, please. I'm sorry, didn't mean to worry you."

"Damn it woman, don't you answer your cell phone?"

"Excuse me?"

"I've been tryin' to call you since five."

"Did you leave a voice mail?"

"No."

"Well then, how do you expect me to know you've been trying to call me?"

She had a point, but he didn't want to concede it. Feeling stumped, he simply cursed.

"What_ is_ your problem, Logan?"

"What's my problem? I'm hungry, I was worried about you, I wanted to take you out to….to make up for the asshole I was earlier today…and…oh screw it." He turned away, headed for the door. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

Following close behind, she gently said, "Hey, don't leave."

"Look Babe, I really need some space. I'm kinda getting' ready to go off."

"Why? Please talk to me."

His back to her, he paused in the doorway and then whipped around. "Why? You wanna know why? Ok, for starters, I don't appreciate getting ripped a new one, like you did this afternoon. Second, I wanna know where you are…."

"Whoa! Hold-up cowboy" she interrupted. "I knew earlier today had something to do with this. You acted like a child and I called you on it. You know what? I'll do it again if you give me a reason to. As for knowing where I am, well, …I didn't intend to worry you, but….I _am _independent adult and not accustomed to checking in." She was being extremely diplomatic but really wanted to tell him where to get off.

He bit his bottom lip and clenched his fists, fighting off his temper. Again he realized she was right and his reaction was way over the top and all he could do was curse.

She quickly realized he was pushed to the wall. Calming her tone, she said, "This is getting us nowhere. Let's call it a night."

"Yeah. Good plan" he growled. "See ya." He stalked out, hopped on his motorcycle, briefly pausing to look in her direction.

She stood there in the doorway looking dejected. "I love you."

He was just about to kick start his Harley, when her last words short-circuited his temper. _I'm such a pussy whipped son of a bitch_, he thought. "Yeah, I know." He dismounted his bike, bound across the driveway and wrapped her in his arms. "I love ya, too."

"I think this qualifies as our first fight" she observed. "I guess we need to kiss and make up."

He growled low in his chest. "I'm gonna do more than kiss ya, woman." Then he scooped her up in his arms, planted a warm, wet kiss on her mouth and carried her off to the bedroom.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Since they were living together except when her son's came to stay on weekends, Susan began relying on Logan to help her ferry her kids to various after school activities. He was so much easier to deal with than her ex-husband, Allen, to whom the concept of flexibility was completely foreign.

On particular crazy afternoon, she put in a desperate call to Logan, since she was completely tied up at the hospital, Allen was tied up with an emergency and her oldest, Travis, had after school baseball practice.

"Bright eyes, I know your busy" she began in Logan's voice mail "but, I can't get away and neither can Allen. Can you please, please, please pick Matt up from school and get him to the orthodontist by four-thirty? Matt knows the way, he'll give you directions. Go home and take the Jag. I owe you. Thanks. Love"

When Logan checked his voice mail then looked at the time he realized he had about fifteen minutes to fight traffic and get Matt. No time for stopping by the house to switch from his bike to the Jag. Thinking fast, he came up with plan B and buzzed Scott. "Hey! I need to borrow your helmet."

"What for?"

"Sue wants me to take Matt to some appointment. I haven't got time to switch for her car. I'm gonna have to us my bike so I need a helmet."

"Fine. Just don't trash it."

"I swear, man. It's for Matt. Nothing's gonna happen."

So Matt was suitably impressed when Logan pulled up to his posh school on a Harley. The kid made maximum points with his peers while lots of parents, waiting in line in their 'oh so proper' Volvo's, Lexus's, Mercedes and high end SUV's visibly sneered their disapproval. Logan restrained himself, with significant difficulty, from saluting them with a rude gesture as he drove off with Matt on the back of his bike.

"Where to?" he asked the boy as they whizzed through traffic.

"We need to go to Mullholland Avenue."

They arrived with absolutely no time to spare. Walking in, the smells of the place just about flattened Logan. He'd never in his memory been anywhere near a dentist or orthodontist. Even so, he felt his sinus's start to burn and his eyes stung and if he stayed much longer and his stomach would start doing the tango. Sometimes his enhanced sense of smell was a royal pain. "Hey kid, I'm gonna wait outside. It's a nice afternoon" Logan said as an excuse.

"Ok. See ya in about half an hour."

"Cool." Logan answered and exited office as fast as he could.

Afterward, Logan was supposed to drop Matt back at his father's and step-mother's. He really hadn't inquired too much into Susan's previous marriage. He knew they'd divorced about 10 years ago due to him having an affair. When he pulled into the driveway of Allen's elegant home which was much fancier than Susan's, he came roaring out of the house, completely irate that his son would be on a motorcycle. Logan had imagined someone fairly close to Susan's age, based on her telling she'd met Allen back in medical school, but apparently she had not mentioned that he had been on of her professors and was a good twenty or twenty-five years older.

The older man looked him up and down disapprovingly then said in a commanding tone.

"I'll thank you _not_ to transport my son on the back of this vehicle again."

Allen's only words to Logan were 'I'll thank you NOT to transport my son on the back of that vehicle again."

Embarrassed, Matt just thanked Logan and slunk into the house.

Logan fought to stay cool and civil though he wanted to tell the guy off. "Yeah well, I got the word a little late and these were the only wheels available to make the appointment on time." Logan said tersely.

"As I said" Allen repeated sternly "please don't transport my son on a motorcycle. It's not safe." With that he turned on his heel and stalked back into the house.

Logan gave Allen's back a one finger salute then squealed out of the driveway burning a circle on the pavement for maximum effect and sped away. He knew somewhere down the line this was coming back to bite him in the butt.

Logan got along pretty well with Susan's sons and over time had begun to spend time with them. They thought highly of Logan's motorcycle the three of them had been known to get on Susan's bad side for sneaking off for an afternoon of dirt-biking. They could usually get back into good graces though, when they pitched with weekend chores.

One Saturday when it was Susan's turn for the boys, she had wanted Travis and Matt to trim all the hedges around the house. It was a huge job and they really weren't thrilled about it

Logan drove up on his bike just in time to see Travis had toss a wad of mulch at Matt and Matt fling a rock back at Travis, hitting him on the shoulder. Travis ripped a string of expletives and Matt answered back just as rudely. The boys were just about to throw punches when Logan intervened. "Ya know, if you guys would quit messing around and get this done, I could probably convince your Mom to let us go biking."

"Yeah, well why don't you grab some trimmers and help?" Matt snapped.

"Shut up, Matthew" Travis admonished. "Don't listen to him, Logan. The twerp is always trying to get every body else to do his work for him."

Logan smirked. "It's okay. Three's better than two. Just give me a chance to grab some coffee then I'll come out and show you how to get this job done." He sauntered into the house and made his way to the kitchen. "Hey, babe. Where are ya?"

"I'm upstairs" she called then yelled "Bombs away" and dropped a wad of bed sheets over the upstairs railing to the entry below. A moment later, she did the same thing with an armful of dirty, damp towels. "Hey, what'cha doing here so early?" she asked and without pausing said "Would you grab those towels off the floor and put them in the laundry room...please"

"No problem. I just woke up early." he answered. "Sue, when I drove up the boys were actin' pretty tense. I kinda told them if they chilled out and got their chores done, we'd...um..."

"You told them you'd take them biking, didn't you?"

"Guilty" he admitted sheepishly.

"You know, Logan, sometimes I think I've got a third teenager around here."

Playing for her sympathy, he replied, "Well, ya know, I don't remember being a teenager. I can't help myself."

"You're so full of it" she laughed.

"Thank you." he answered with a slight bow. "I'm going to help the boys out, ok?"

"Yeah, go on. I'll find something to occupy myself.

Logan joined the boys in the front yard. They had managed to quit arguing, but hadn't made much progress. He belted back the rest of his coffee then set the mug on the hood of one of the cars. "Ok, gentlemen, let me show ya how its' done. Oh, by the way guys, don't freak." He snapped his claws out and with precision neatly sheared a row of hedges.

"Oh, that is too cool!" Matthew exclaimed. "I want those!"

"Dang Logan, you better hope the neighbors don't see you." Travis warned.

"Actually, I hope it's your mom who doesn't see. She'll kick my butt." Logan answered as he worked his way down the hedgerow. "Now you guys work down from the other end and we'll meet in the middle."

They finished up in no time and none of the neighbors ever anything but Susan caught sight of what was going on. "Hey, I thought the rule was powers don't get used unless absolutely necessary?" she hollered to them from the back door.

"Oh this was absolutely necessary." Logan answered with mock seriousness

"I see. I guess you'll have to hurry up so that you boys can get all grungy and nasty biking this afternoon."

All three answered in unison. "Yes ma'am."

"Oh whatever. You guys pick up the clippings before you take off... and James Logan, I'll deal with you later." She smiled slyly.

Logan raised his eyebrows at her, returning the same sly smile "Promise?"

She gave him a wink. "By the way, dinner is at seven and I expect you guys back in time to grill steaks." She closed the kitchen door before they answered.

When they came back from their adventure that evening covered in mud, the boys had some bruises and great spirits. They came bounding in through the garage door.

"Don't take one more step." Susan commanded as soon as she caught sight of their messiness. "Now back up. You guys are _not_ bringing all that mud into my house.'

"Oh come on, Mom! What are we supposed to do?" Travis complained.

"Strip down to your underwear and then hit the showers."

Matthew looked stunned. "Mom, that's like too embarrassing."

"Matthew Allen Harris, I changed your diapers fourteen years ago."

"Give it up, Matt." Travis warned as he began to strip.

Logan just stood there wondering if she meant him too. She did. Then she left them to dash to the showers while she started on dinner.

Logan was the first to emerge, all cleaned up. Susan got a feeling of deja vu when she saw him standing in the kitchen, shirtless in jeans.

"You look good, baby, real good." she said as she prepared a salad "but go get a shirt, the boys are here, remember."

"Can't find a clean one" he replied with a very sly, come-hither grin on his face.

" Logan, I put your t- shirts in the dresser, second drawer, right side."

"I was going to wear something a little nicer than a t-shirt."

Susan looked sheepish. "Oh. Your button-downs are at the dry-cleaners. Sorry"

"Great. Then a t-shirt it is," and he headed back to the bedroom.

He returned, pulling on a blue NYFD t-shirt. "Please don't tell me my shirts are coming back starched? I hate starched shirts."

"Just a little, sweetie. You don't want to look like you slept in your clothes, do you?"

"Well, if it's a choice between starch and no starch, I don't mind looking wrinkled" he answered grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"You're a mess." she chuckled. "Pour me some wine and go start up the grill."

He saluted. "White or red?" he asked.

Just then, Travis and Matt wandered into the kitchen. "Set the table, boys" Susan ordered. "We're dining al-fresco tonight."

The boys set to work. "Hey mom, I'm going out. Got a date with someone." Travis informed her.

"Really? With whom?"

"Jubilee."

"As in Jubilee, from Xavier's School?"

"That would be the one."

"Travis William, how did this come about?"

"I dunno. We're just going to the movies with some of the other kids. No big deal."

"Trav, be careful mixing mutant kids with non-mutants. There are a lot of intol..."

"Mom, it's cool. I'm hanging with Jubilee, Marie and Bobby. I'm the odd one out this trip."

"Ok, son. Midnight curfew."

"Yes, ma'am." The six- foot high school senior, gave his mom a hug. "Can I borrow the Jag?"

"Not on your life."

"Dang." the young man mumbled as he walked away.

Once Travis had left, Sue and Logan lounged on the front porch watching Matt and other neighborhood kids skateboarding up and down the cul-de-sac. In between watching the kids attempt to not injure themselves, Sue was writing out invitations and announcements for Travis' upcoming high school graduation and Logan was quietly strumming Travis's guitar.

"Where did you learn to play that piece?" Susan asked.

"I just figured it out" he answered.

"You never cease to amaze me, babe."

He smiled. "I try my best." Glancing down the street, he watched Matt ollie on his board. "You know that looks kinda fun. You suppose it would be totally uncool with Matt if I gave it a try?"

"Probably not. Lately Matt thinks your the coolest dude around."

"Yeah? How come?"

"I got a phone call from Allen about a week ago, I guess. He'd heard all about how cool you were and this and that from Matt. I think he was really just being nosy" Susan explained with an edge of irritation. "Then, and this is the part that really made me angry, he wanted to know if it was true you're mutant and how involved were we... and just stuff that was none of his business."

She was venting now. Logan stopped playing and listened intently to her.

"Then" she continued, "he gives me this business about good examples for the boys and elitist crap about the boys associating with the 'right' people and that I needed to keep that in mind. How dare he insinuate that I don't keep things in line with the boys. Damn it, he was the one that did all the running around. He even had the nerve to bring that... that bitch to our home." Realizing her emotions were starting to overflow, she quieted with a sigh. "I'm sorry; I don't need to burden you with all of this."

"Hey, it's ok" he said reaching for her hand. ""Who else can you vent on? You've got every right to be pissed, lady. How about if I have a conversation with Allen?"

"Good Lord, no Logan. That's exactly what he wants, to stir up trouble".

"I'll give him some trouble if he really wants it" Logan growled. "He's not going to mess around with you and make you unhappy _while_ I'm around."

" Logan, promise me you won't say or do anything. Honestly, the best thing to do is absolutely nothing. I'm not going to engage him in any debate. What's going on between you and me is none of his business. And as far as how I conduct my life with the boys, he just does _not want_ to go there."

"I promise I'll try. But, it might be tough."

Matt and some of the other kids skated up the drive seeking Cokes and a time check so their conversation ceased. It was quarter 'til eleven so Matt's said good-bye to his friends and they headed home. "Hey, mom, how come you always kick Logan out at night when we're around on weekends?"

"Excuse, me?" Susan answered sternly

"Come on, mom. It's not like we don't know he's here...

"Matthew Allen, this is a conversation that I _am not_ going to have with you. You are treading in territory that is none of your business. Am I clear?"

Logan bit his tongue and decided to excuse himself. If he got into this debate, he was going to lose no matter what. "I think it's time for me to go home." he said giving Susan a peck on her lips and quickly heading for his bike.

Not giving up easily, Matt tried to engage Logan.

Logan took a deep breath and really thought about his response. "Matt... I gotta tell ya... I support your mother in all things." Then he swung his leg over the bike, kicked the engine and rode off- not for the Mansion, but just to cruise some bars, shoot a little pool, break a few hearts and see what was going on. It was too early to call it a night.

So he headed out Westchester, crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge and turned on to Palisades Parkway headed for some bars in north Jersey. He was more comfortable with the clientele in boro's like Teaneck or Bergenfield. He stopped off at a scenic overlook for a few minutes, just to smoke a cigar and find a restroom. Parked at this particular overlook, he noticed a familiar red pick-up and a forest green Jeep. The pick -up was Travis' and the Jeep belonged to the School. He cut the engine on the bike drifting silently into the parking area. From down the pathway he heard voices, rather loud and inebriated voices. He crept down the trail and found the kids sitting together in cozy couples. Judging by the number of bottles, plenty of beer had been consumed. "So, how was the movie?" Logan's voice rumbled from the darkness.

All four of them jumped up. _"Oh my God, it's Logan," Marie exclaimed. " We are in so much trouble." Bobby interjected. " I'm gonna be toast when my mom finds out" Travis added. _

Then Logan let loose. "What the hell do you kids think you're doing? You're all underage. Who sold ya the beer? You bet you're in trouble. Did anybody think about driving? It's a damned good thing I came along when I did..." his fury ebbed as he realized what could have been. "... otherwise, I might be scraping you idiots off the road." He shook his head and then just glared at them a long moment. "Here's what's going to happen. First, pick up these bottles and throw them away. Next, get into Travis' truck, then, I'm going to drive you back to school and you can explain yourselves to the Professor and Mr. Summers. Travis, after I drop Marie, Jubilee and Bobby back at School, then you and I will go home and you can explain yourself to your mother."

Travis glared at Logan, embarrassed at being caught and resentful of his interference.

The four kids were silent on the back to School. Marie couldn't bring herself to even look Logan in the eye. She knew how disappointed he was in her. Jubilee was softly crying. She had been in trouble before and knew that it was not going to go easy for her.

Bobby was too drunk to have a grip on anything. About halfway back, he mumbled that he didn't feel too good and they had to pull over so he could be sick. Finally Logan dropped them back at the school leaving them in the care of Scott and Charles and then started back with Travis.

Waiting in stony silence in the front seat, Travis was staring out of the window into the darkness, the alcohol having made him angry, itching for a confrontation.

Logan stopped at the overlook to load his bike into the back of the truck. Travis got out to watch. He didn't want Logan to scratch up his truck and he was looking for an opportunity to pick a fight.

"You know, I'm ok. I don't need you to take me back home" Travis grumbled.

"Travis, I know you don't think you need me to take you back home, but I'm still gonna."

"Fuck you, Logan. You're not my dad." he retorted, venom in his tone.

Logan was about to spout off back at the boy, but stopped himself. "You're right, Trav, I'm not your Dad. I wouldn't even try to fake it, but I hope I'm at least your friend. As a friend, there's no way I'm going to let you drive."

"Where do you get off thinking you're my friend? You're just the latest guy screwin' my mom."

The look on Logan's face changed from concern to dark fury. It took every bit of self control he had not to punch Travis. "Boy, I'm warnin' ya right now. Don't ever talk about Susan like that again."

"You're warning me? What are you going to do? Rip me up with your claws?"

"Travis, just back off, will ya." He didn't know where this stuff was coming from and he wasn't sure he could keep up the understanding approach much longer.

"I will not back off. You need to back off. There's no way you can be my friend. You think I'm stupid? You're just out to get what you can from her- enjoy some of the high life. You just can't stand it because I'm calling you on it. You're just screwing my mom so you can enjoy the lifestyle while you can. "

Logan realized Travis, though drunk, wanted to protect his mom. "Travis, I'm not out to take advantage of anybody..."

"You're a liar, too" Travis yelled and swung at Logan.

Logan caught arm, flipped him and pinned him to the ground. "Boy, I could finish you off right here but I won't. You know why? Because I love your mother. Do you hear me? I'm not taking advantage of her. I love her. And here's a newsflash for ya, she loves me back." He struggled to keep his voice firm and even.

Cursing, Travis struggled vainly against Logan.

"I'm not going to let you up until you calm down" Logan cautioned. "If you've got issues, we're going to deal with 'em right now. Do you want to act like a man or an idiot? Logan hoped Travis would calm down. He was fast running out of ideas of what to do or say and his patience was nearly at an end. Then a revelation hit him. The only way to deal with Travis was complete honesty. The young man needed the whole story. "Listen up, Travis. What you are saying has merit. Not truth, but merit. You're right, I am not in the same league as your mom, not even close but this is what happened. I met your mom, what in March? Yeah, mid-march. I took one look at her, and yeah, she turned me on. I made a move, an out of line move. Your mom turned me down. Then your mom and I dated. Your mom made the next move. We fell in love. What can I say? If you don't believe me, then let's go talk to her right now. You got the balls to do that?"

The challenge to confront his mother, hit a nerve with Travis. He stopped struggling against Logan and quieted. "You're not shitting me are you?" Travis asked, almost meekly.

"No."

The alcohol buzz and fury began to drain away and Logan felt a change in the boy's body. He let him up.

"I am such as asshole" Travis choked. "Man, I'm really sorry... Oh shit, what time is it?"

"Two fifteen, dude." Logan answered matter- of- factly.

"Geez, I'm so in trouble."

"Trav, you're going to have to explain to your mom what went down about the beer. She's going to hear about it next week anyway, you can bet on that. As far as the other shit is concerned, that's between us. You love your mom. I love your mom. Neither of us wants anything bad to happen. I think we can both agree on that."

Travis nodded, fighting back tears. The alcohol was wearing off and he was realizing what an out of control idiot he was being.

"Alright. Let's go home and I'll help with damage-control as much as I can."

They got into the truck and right before they pulled into the drive they spotted Susan sitting on the front porch, looking beyond irate, Travis said, "Hey thanks for not kicking my ass, and oh by the way, if you are a praying man, pray for me, because Mom is going to do more than kill me."

"I hear ya, Trav, and I believe ya."

Fully aware of intricate 'family politics', Logan silently stood by Travis as the young man faced his mother. Then, the 'shit hit the fan' as Susan delivered her special brand of discipline to her son. Travis promptly lost his driving privileges until graduation. Logan kept true to his work and didn't mention the fight.

As soon as Travis had gone off to bed, Susan and Logan sat down at the kitchen table to unwind. "Is it always this exciting with kids?" Logan asked wearily.

"All the time... Hey, I' m so sorry you had to get involved."

"I'm just glad I came along when I did. When I think about what could have happened, it makes me kinda sick."

"I know what you're saying, love. It's every parent's nightmare." She yawned, "I'm turning in. Coming?"

"What, you're not throwing me out?"

"I think it's time we stopped kidding ourselves. We're certainly not kidding the kids."

"Yeah, I know what ya mean. I damned near choked when Matt started his little dialogue tonight."

"Kid's are smart. Especially mine" she said with teasing pride. "I did appreciate your support, though."

"Thanks. Honestly, I don't know exactly where that came from. I wasn't sure what to say."

"Well, where ever it came from, it was perfect. You have to give yourself more credit, Logan. You're really a decent person. I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you weren't." She wrapped her arm around his waist and they went to their room to settle in for what was left of the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

As soon as the regular school year ended, the men of the X-Team began what was _supposed_ to be a fairly routine off-site training exercise but it sure didn't end up that way. Scott, Kurt, Victor, Logan and three older boys, Bobby who would be known as Iceman, Piotr, who was already known as Colossus, and Kyle, whose gift was a shape-shifting, but hadn't settled on a code name yet, were beginning to train as part of the team, flew to a remote area in the hills of Kentucky. The plan was to camp and live off the land for several days and teach the boys the art of tracking and using their special skills effectively. It was one of Logan's favorite training exercises because nobody could out-do him in tracking skills and living off the land was second nature. In a way it was more of a vacation, as far as he was concerned.

Things were going along terrifically until the last day. As a final test for the boys, it was decided that they would have to track Logan. It was proving to be a daunting task for the boys and even Scott and Victor were beginning to show their frustration as hours passed and they could not locate Logan. In teams, the group made sweeping circles of a several mile area. The terrain was steep and heavily wooded. Logan was aware of each team's locations and managed to evade them all.

"Is there any way to sneak up on Wolverine?" Kyle whispered to Scott as they traipsed through the forest.

"Only if we're downwind and extremely lucky" Scott replied.

"And we can't go back until we find him?"

Scott nodded and they continued the search. Suddenly Scott froze in his tracks, causing Kyle to bump into him. "Hold up! Do you see that? Off to the left?"

"Yes sir. What is it?"

"It's a still."

"Huh?"

"Moonshine….illegal alcohol and its owners are probably not the sociable type." Scott explained. "We need to give this a wide berth."

"Why?"

"We might be mistaken for competition or the DEA."

"Not cool. You know, Logan's probably hiding out nearby."

"Maybe, but they won't find him any easier than us."

"Good point."

"C'mon Kyle, let's head north and then circle this sector."

As luck would have it for them, Logan was in the treetops above. As the X-men Team Leader and trainee hastily retreated from the area, Logan caught scent of the moon shiners. They had been aware of trespassers in their territory and were prepared to protect their investments with shotguns. Cleverly hidden in underbrush, the moon shiners raised their guns and aimed at the retreating Scott and Kyle.

Logan had just a split second to make a decision. He could pounce down and disable one of them but that would leave the other still capable of firing. Logan yelled "drop" knowing Scott would react appropriately and then pounced from the treetops onto the moonshiner closest to his teammates. At the same instant to other moonshiner squeezed off a shot that hit him squarely in the left mid-back. Scott reacted nearly simultaneously to the commotion, crouched, turned and lasered the moonshiner, hurling him through the air landing him in an unconscious heap before he could fire off a second shot gun blast.

Logan's pounce had knocked one moonshiner unconscious but the force of the shot gun blast knocked him face- forward onto the ground not completely unconscious, but definitely not all there either. Moments later, he pushed himself to his knees and then tried to stand. Dizzy and weak as his body worked hard to heal, he started to pitch forward again but was steadied by Scott. The bloody, gaping wound on Logan's back sickened Kyle. Embarrassed, the boy retreated behind a nearby tree, being quite ill.

"Thanks. Gimme a minute." he grunted painfully.

"Sit down and rest" Scott suggested as he gently lowered him to the ground, propped against a tree for support.

Victor and the other boys heard the shotgun blasts and tore through the woods toward the sound. Victor, first on the scene, surveyed the unconscious moonshiner and his face was etched with concern for Logan who was leaning against the tree looking as bad as he was feeling. "What the hell happened?" he asked, agitation and concern in his voice.

" Logan saved our butts." Scott answered. "He stepped in front of a shot gun."

Logan peeled his eyes open and surveyed the team. Then sensing something, "We've got to get out of here" he said. "I think our moon shiners have backup."

"Can you make it back to the jet?" Victor asked

Logan hauled himself to his feet, still using the tree to steady himself. "Yeah" he grunted still in significant pain, though by the time they made it back to the jet, he appeared to be almost completely healed. He could hide the cramping sensation and intermittent sharp pain in his back if he worked at it.

For Logan, the healing process could be as painful as the wound. Bone, muscle, nerves and skin burned as the repair process went on. Something like a kidneys or lungs healing could cause him enough pain to incapacitate him for a length of time.

They flew back to Westchester in relative silence, all thinking about the "what-ifs" no one wanted to voice. Instead, they covered up any fears with typical masculine joking and making light of the whole thing. All the what-ifs would come out at the inevitable de-briefing and nobody was looking forward to that.

Meanwhile, back at Xavier's School, Susan had just finished up with her last patient and was beginning to input data into her computer. Suddenly she thought about Logan and was struck with a strong feeling of unease. "Electra, have we heard anything from the guys?"

"No, but they're due back in a few hours."

"I know. I just thought they'd give us an ETA by now. I hope they'll be back in time for the hockey game tonight." Susan had scored season tickets for the New Jersey Devil Rays, who were finalists in the Stanley Cup play offs and the game was at home.

"I know what you mean but we won't hear anything until they make their landing approach."

Susan sighed "Ok" but she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened.

As the Team approached Westchester, Victor requested some weather to hide their approach and Storm, in the jet port control, was happy to comply and made sure the basketball court was clear of any kids. The sudden fog bank and the rumbling of the jet port opening alerted everyone to the X-teams' return.

Just before disembarking, Logan switched out of his bloody and ruined leather uniform and into black sweat pants and a gray sweatshirt and asked his teammates not to say anything about the shotgun incident. If he had been hoping not to tell Susan anything his hopes were dashed when he spotted Susan and Electra waiting for them. The first words out of Susan were exactly what he expected.

"What happened?"

He gave her a peck on the lips. "I love you too" then forced himself to walk briskly out of the jet port and into the command conference room. Susan followed right on his heels, the rest of the team close behind.

" Logan, why aren't you in uniform?"

"Got a hole in it" he answered being purposely vague

"Damn it, James Logan" she hissed "_How_ did your uniform get a hole in it?" She used his given first name on very rare occasions.

"Sit in on the debriefing and you'll hear all about it, ok."

"Oh, fine then." she huffed and took her customary seat. The others filed in and Charles rolled in.

As team leader, Scott headed up the debriefing. For whatever reason, he kept it short, but added that he felt that some more discussion might be warranted later on. Susan sat through the entire debriefing in silence, chewing on a finger nail and carefully observing Logan for any signs he might still be suffering effects of the injury. She didn't detect anything obvious, except maybe that he seemed uncomfortable sitting in his chair shifting his position frequently and she detected just a slight grimace on his face every now and then.

Then Scott dismissed everyone, but before Logan had a chance to get too far, Susan said "I want to see you in the med lab right now.

"What for?" he asked, strong irritation in his voice.

"CT Scan."

He shook his head. "Oh come on! I'm fine."

Looking him straight in the eye, she challenged, "No you're not and I can tell. Look at me and tell me you're 100."

He couldn't because he had pain still and just muttered 'Shit' then followed her to the med lab.

He hated CT Scans. Going into that tunnel reminded him of things he'd rather not remember. Plus there was the obnoxious dye that felt like fire and produced a metallic taste in his throat, plus the scans were only partially effective as a diagnostic tool anyway. It couldn't see through his adamantium skeleton.

He didn't say much as Susan prepped him for the scan. She knew exactly how irritated he was and wisely kept her mouth shut. "What kind of music do you want while this is running?" she asked just before she closed herself off in the control room.

What? I don't care."

"Suit yourself" she answered but selected a Bruce Springsteen CD knowing he really dug The Boss. She spoke from the control room. " Logan, this is probably going to take about twenty minutes. I'm going to have you breathe deeply and then hold your breath periodically, so listen for me, okay."

"Yeah, I know the drill" he answered curtly

When the scan was done, she came back into the scanning room to unhook the IV.

"You've got several pellets lodged in your left kidney and a few others floating around in your abdomen." she told him. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"Not so much pain as just kind of an ache in my back" he lied. He was feeling a lot of pain. "So what now? What can you do about it?"

Susan thought about her answer for a moment. Quite honestly she wasn't sure just what to do. Odds were he'd be fine. What she wasn't sure of was whether his body would rid itself of the pellets or would they just stay there? Would extracting them be helpful? "I'm not sure." she finally answered.

That took him by surprise and the look on his face showed it.

"My best guess is that these things will probably pass out of your urinary tract, sort of like kidney stones. So, I recommend a wait-and-see approach. If things get too uncomfortable I can perform something called a percutaneous nephrolithotomy"

"Plain English, please." he snapped at her

"I make some incisions then pick the shot gun pellets out of your kidney and you go on your way after a few hours, well probably minutes for you, except the anesthesia would knock you on your butt longer than the actual procedure."

"Hate to mention this, but I don't take to anesthesia. What about just waiting it out?"

She looked puzzled for the moment. "I gosh, I forgot that. I don't know, Babe, maybe a couple of hours, maybe the weekend." She wasn't happy to have to be so vague. "It's up to you."

"Waiting it out seems like the best choice" he answered half-heartedly

At home after the CT scan, Susan could tell that Logan was hurting but doing his level best to ignore it. He wasn't his usual romantic self when they went to bed that night and when his head hit the pillow he was asleep within minutes. About two hours later he began to toss and turn, the pain in his back intensifying, beginning to radiate through his belly. Around one a.m. he got up and used the bathroom then emerged in a mild state of panic. Shaking Susan awake he asked "Is it normal to piss blood?"

She sat upright and shook the sleep out of her brain. "What? Yes, it can be. How much blood?"

"How should I know?"

"Oh, good grief. What color was your urine? Brownish, bright red, some where in between?"

"Definitely bright red and it didn't feel too pleasant, either."

"Oh. Maybe you passed one of those pellets. I don't suppose you didn't flush?"

"Sorry."

"Do you need some pain meds?"

"Actually no. I'm okay, now. My back still hurts some. Tolerable, though."

"Good. Come on back to bed."

He slept another two hours before the pain returned, this time more intense. He got up and walked around the still, dark house, but it didn't get better. Now really hurting and burning in his groin, he sat down in the family room and tried meditating the pain away but it just grew sharper, making him nauseous.

Finally, he gave in, woke Susan and asked her for some pain medication. Whatever she gave him actually took the edge for a few more hours meaning whatever it was; he'd probably never had it before. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn't work a second time.

When he awoke next it was about eight. Susan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast and he ambled out of the bedroom looking very rough.

"Morning Bright eyes, you look like hell." she said reflecting sympathy on her face.

"I feel like hell" he answered taking a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Hungry?"

"A little."

"Hey, it's really important you take in a lot of fluids right now. That's going to help pass the pellets."

He pursed his lips tightly and squint his eyes. "Right, and that means I get to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of feeling like I'm pissing glass."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I _do_ have an idea of what you're going through. There's still the surgical option."

"That's ok. I can handle it. How do you know what this feels like?"

"Urinary tract infections. It's more often a female thing. But pissing glass, as you so eloquently put it, is about the most right on description I've heard."

He put his palms up "That's too much information."

She handed him a plate full of eggs and bacon and set a liter bottle of water by his place. "I want you to finish this water by noon, ok."

"Can't I have a beer? That's fluid." He knew what her answer would be.

"No, you cannot have beer." she answered him incredulously. "Clear, non-alcoholic fluids. Water is best. I'll ok non-caffeinated soda if and _only_ if you chug enough water. Got it?"

"Got it." he answered glumly between bites of the eggs and bacon. "Do we have any apple juice?"

"No. Try this," and she pulled out a glass jar from the fridge pouring him some cranberry juice then handed him a large pill.

He looked at the glass suspiciously. "What's this?"

"Cranberry juice. Helps keep the urinary track acidified and infection down. You probably won't get an infection, but it can't hurt."

"And the horse pill?"

"An antibiotic, just to be on the safe side."

"Whatever" he said. The drugs wouldn't do squat but to humor her he swallowed the pill with a belt of the cranberry juice then scrunched his face at the taste. "That stuff tastes like... just plain nasty." He reached for the water and chugged about half the bottle.

Already the pain medicine she'd given him a few hours earlier was wearing off. The ache in his back was intensifying and a burning urgency to urinate drove him into the bathroom.

" Logan, take this with you." She handed him a strainer.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Catch the pellets when they come out, that way we'll know how many more to go."

He looked at her like she was crazy, took the strainer into the bathroom and promptly tossed it into a corner. Susan could hear him cursing and complaining and then he flopped on the sofa when he came back. "This is going to be just a swell day." he said mostly to himself with the pain intensifying again. He lolled his head back against the couch and closed his eyes against it then, he groaned as the urge to urinate came again.

" Logan, are you hurting again."

"Yeah." he grunted. The wave subsided. "It's getting pretty bad, Sue."

Before she could get more medicine from the bathroom, another pain hit hard, a cold sweat, strong nausea and dizziness washed over him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

"Hey, you're looking a little pale around the edges. Are you nauseated?"

He could only nod. Then his stomach lurched and he tasted bitterness in the back of his throat. He got up quickly and pushed past her for the bathroom while she followed on his heels. Breakfast did not stay in his stomach. When he was through, he was quite certain last night's dinner and maybe yesterday's lunch came along with the purge. Feeling shaky and feeling like he still might heave, he went over to the sink to splash water on his face and rinse his mouth.

"I think maybe injectibles are going to be a better choice." Susan soothed as she applied a cool rag to his neck. "Come over here and lay down" and led him to the bed.

He said as he eased himself onto the bed, his back propped against the headboard. "I'm still feeling really sick."

"No problem." she answered retrieving a basin from the linen closet. "As a doctor and a mom, I'm never out of reach of one of these" and handed it to him just in time. When the next purge subsided, she injected him with some painkiller and anti-nausea meds and then sat with him until they took effect.

"I'm not sure I can wait this out." He said shakily feeling that burning urge again. "Gotta go" he announced and staggered to the bathroom hanging onto furniture and the door frame for support.

Susan stayed close but not so close she denied him his privacy, listening to his curses and groaning. She heard a flush, then a thump that made her rush in to his side. He was on his knees heaving bile and stomach acid into the toilet. She had to wait for the siege to stop to help him back to bed. "I can't handle this." he moaned.

"I'm sorry, baby. I think the drugs aren't working. I'm not certain _anything_ I have will help.

Logan could only nod in agreement

Do you want me to do another CT?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, cut the pellets out."

She heaved a very long sigh. "I still to have to do another CT. I have to locate the remaining pellets and it could be more complicated now that they've begun moving through your urinary tract. I'm not an urologist."

He looked desperate. "Are you saying you can't do it?"

"I'm saying that it's Saturday and getting a consult even from a colleague who owes me a favor is going to be tough. But, I'll try, love." Taking him to her hospital crossed her mind, but she didn't want to stir up mutant issues. Sadly, she knew of physicians flatly refusing to treat anyone who even tested positive for the X factor. She had an urologist friend, but no idea what his take on mutants was.

Logan nodded and she could see that he was drifting out, his body and mind shutting down something like hibernation. It was a scary thing to observe unless you knew what was normal for Logan.

"I think when you wake up going to the med lab might be a good idea. I don't feel comfortable here at the house anymore" she said, absolutely certain she couldn't handle him by herself if he became totally incapacitated or heaven forbid, even delirious or violent. .

"Agreed", he slurred as he closed his eyes and gave into healing sleep.

Mercifully, when he awoke about four hours later, he was much better. She still insisted they go to the med lab for another CT but the scan proved clear and the worst seemed over. His pain was diminished down to a dull ache. By late Saturday night, he was feeling completely recovered and itchy to get as far from the med lab as possible. He wanted to "prove" to Susan how good he felt but she told him to cool his jets for another day or so. He pouted a little but finally agreed, falling into sleep that lasted clear into Sunday afternoon.

28


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The ususal.**

**Author's notes: Thanks to Rhiannon UK, joegood, ReganTrinity and others for feedback. Joegood, your story is getting really 'tight' and I'm enjoying it. ReganTrinity, keep at it. You've got great ideas and a fascinating story, just work on the spell and grammar check.**

**Please don't criticize too much when it comes to the French language portion of this. It's been many years since high school French and I did utilize an internet tool for help. I've been warned that the website tool is less than perfect. I tried my best. **

**This offering is shorter than the first two, but since I've been working on this since February of 2004, I've got several hundred more pages to final-edit and get posted. After that, I've got an outline for another story. I guess I'll be around the website for a while. **

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Logan and Susan were enjoying a quiet evening, she was catching up on her professional reading and he was buried in the latest Tom Clancy novel.

"Hon?"

"Hmmm?" he answered absently. Reading took a lot of effort and he didn't know why, but he assumed it had something to do with what happened years ago. Maybe loss of memories meant other losses, too.

"Are you still heading up to Canada next week?"

No answer.

"Hello, Logan!"

"What? I'm_ tryin'_ to read."

"Sorry. Are you still..."

"Yeah. I'm heading out Sunday morning."

"Ok" she sighed and settled back to reading. A few minutes later, "I guess that leaves me no more excuses then."

He rolled his eyes and snapped the book shut. "Susan, what do you want to talk about?"

"Just that I've been avoiding going down to Texas and settling the ranch and with you going to Canada, my last excuse just evaporated."

"I told ya I'd go with ya."

"I know but you'd be bored out of your tree."

He grinned. "I can find some trouble to get into."

"Hah! Just what I need. I'd still love to sneak up to Canada with_ you_, though."

"If I was sure it was going to be ok, I'd take ya in a heartbeat. I just think its best I go it alone."

"I know" she pouted and returned to reading. Just as he resumed reading, she interrupted again. "I just wish I could come to a decision about the place."

Logan snapped the book shut and dropped it on the floor beside his chair. "I quit! I give up!" He stood, went to her, took the periodical away and hoisted her over his shoulder. "Let's try a somthin' else." he said carrying her to their room.

She shrieked with surprise. "Put me down, you beast."

With one free hand he tossed the comforter back and lowered her gently onto the sheets. She was still laughing when he covered her mouth with his in a deep kiss. Feeling ornery, she pinched and tickled him.

He jumped and laughed. "You can't win this, girl." and tickled her back.

"Wanna bet?"

They wrestled and rolled around, laughing and gasping and finally he let her pin him. "I win." she gasped triumphantly "What's my prize?"

He pulled her down so they were nose to nose. "Kiss me and find out."

By the time Sunday arrived, they'd agreed he was going to drop her at the airport then he'd head north in her Volvo. She'd talked him out of taking his motorcycle, pointing out that the weather was still iffy up there, the Volvo had a great stereo and she'd feel he'd be safer. He'd pretended to be irritated by her fussing, but he really didn't mind. They kissed a long goodbye at the gate and promised each other to check in every couple of days.

Susan arrived at a blazing hot Dallas/Fort Worth airport three and a half hours later, picked up a rental car and headed two hours west to Mineral Wells. Ecstatic to see her were her favorite aunt and Gerardo and his wife Therese, the caretakers of the ranch. They had readied the house since no one had set foot in it for quite a while. It amazed her that everything looked exactly as she remembered and she wondered how long it had been since her father had been there.

Later, after a supper of fajitas and salad, she and her favorite aunt, Colleen, wandered about the house and grounds, reminiscing and catching up. Colleen Brigett Cullinan Kleiberg was the next older sister of Susan's mother, Aileen. There were four Cullinan sisters, Maureen, Kathleen, Colleen and Aileen. Of the foursome, only Maureen and Colleen still lived. Colleen had been a strong force in Susan's life especially after her mother and younger brother both died suddenly on a few months apart.

"What am I going to do with the place?" Susan asked as they sat on the expansive front porch overlooking a lake.

"What do you want to do, Sassy?" Colleen replied, using Susan's childhood nickname.

"I'm of two minds. I can't ranch it. I'm too involved with my practice in New York but I can't make myself give it up, either. Then there's finances; if I can't keep it productive, taxes are going to eat me alive."

"Yep, oil and gas futures are limping along and with beef futures erratic the way they've been and the dag-blamed drought, you're between a rock and a hard place."

"You know what my fantasy is? Someday chuck it all, move back here and have a small practice, just me and maybe an assistant, no ER shifts, no big city traumas."

"What's stopping ya, gal?"

"Real life, Aunt Colleen."

Susan's cell phone rang. She checked caller ID and smiled. "Hello Son. How's Normandy? …..Boring, huh? The surf sucks?" she laughed. "Well hopefully Greece will be better. How are you and the girl's getting along?" She was referring to his six and eight year-old half-sisters. "That's good. I've got Aunt Colleen here, say hey and Matt, love ya." She turned the phone over to Colleen.

After she was through Colleen commented "That boy's voice changed since the last time I talked to him. How tall is he now?"

"Nearly 6 feet."

"Oh my. They don't stay little, do they?"

"No ma'am. You know what though; I don't feel old enough to have one in college and one in high school. I keep waiting to feel like a grown up sometimes."

Colleen laughed. "You keep thinking that way Sassy-girl. That's one of the secrets to staying young. Hell, I'm eighty one and some days I still feel like eighteen."

Susan's cell rang again. "Hello"

"Hey, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"Almost to Toronto. Going to pull in for the night."

"You made good time."

"Yeah. How was your flight?"

"Ok. It's hot down here."

"It's _nice_ here. How's the ranch? In good shape?"

"Don't rub it in. It's in great shape; Gerardo and Therese treat it like it's theirs. I'm lucky."

"I'm glad. I'll call ya tomorrow, babe."

"Ok. Be careful, Bright eyes. I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

Clicking off the phone, anticipating Colleen's comments, she ran down the details. "Yes, I_ do_ have a boyfriend and I've known him since March. He's a coach at the boarding school where I practice part time."

"Is it serious?"

"Seems to be heading that way."

"Bring him to the reunion serious?"

"Possibly but don't go getting things ahead of themselves, you hear?"

"Where's he from?"

"Canada."

"A Canadian! Well, doesn't that beat all?"

"Stop sounding so... Texan."

"You can take the gal out of Texas, but you cain't take Texas out of the gal."

"Yeah, and Logan reminds of that every time I say _I'm fixin_ or that twang comes across when I speak."

"Logan….that's a manly name, Yankee for sure, but manly. How come you didn't bring him down?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, would you prefer Bubba? Aunt Colleen, has anyone every told you that you're nosy?"

"All the time, child, now answer my question."

"He's actually in Canada- umm- tending to family business of his own. Let's call it a night. The skeeters are biting."

Susan met with an attorney and an accountant the next morning and learned the ranch was in good shape for the foreseeable future. In a way, she wished the news wouldn't have been as good because it would be easier to make decisions with something negative staring her in the face.

The next day, instead of tending to business, they decided a day of shopping in Dallas was_ required. _Sometimes when a woman's got stresses only new dresses would fix it, at least that was Colleen's theory. Soon after that, Colleen was on her way to visit with another grand-niece, who'd just had a baby.

Logan called Susan from his next stopover, Thunder Bay on Lake Superior. "Hey."

"Hey yourself" she answered. "How are ya?"

"Ok. You sound funny. What's wrong?"

"Allergies have my sinuses all messed up."

"Bummer. Speaking of bummers, the weather turned pretty bad, glad I've got the car."

Trying hard to keep an-I-told-you-so tone out of her reply, she said "Oh?"

"Yeah, strong winds and sleet yesterday. If I'd been on my bike, I'd have lost a day."

"Is it better now?"

"Much. How are things down there?"

"Very well. The Ranch is in much better shape that I thought."

"Figured out what you're gonna do?"

"Not completely, but I'm going to sort through things here at the house. Hopefully I'll be able to come to a decision."

"Ok. Listen babe, I'll call ya tomorrow."

"I'll be right here. Stay out of trouble."

He snorted in response to her advice. "Love ya."

The next day, going through her father's study, turned out to be an emotional rollercoaster. He had so many mementos, medals and accolades. She packed and labeled them carefully. Pictures on the walls of his study were a trip down memory lane so she decided to ship them home. Reading through his journals dating from when he and her mother were first married, she gained a different sense of who he was. Expressed in his journals was all the emotion she'd never remembered him expressing and as she continued reading, she observed how he changed by the tone of his writings.

His last personal entry shocked her. All her adult life, she had been led to believe that her mother had died of an aneurysm, but if his memoirs were to be believed, her mother had been driven to suicide. According to her father, her brother Jason, a mutant with powerful telekinetic abilities, had become unbalanced and hostile and used his powers to drive both his parents out of their minds. She couldn't believe what she read. The brother she knew was a shy, geeky kid, not capable causing harm. Something was very amiss and she couldn't get her mind around it. Maybe she needed to step away for a while have a stiff drink and a long cry.

Her stiff drink got interrupted by Matthew's nightly check in and she was glad for the distraction. Later, Logan's call interrupted her cry. "Hello" she sniffled.

There was a pause. "Susie? That you?"

"Yes. Don't mind me, it' just been…" she sucked in a deep breath, "really rough today."

"How come?"

"Going through my Dad's things is just a lot harder than I thought."

There was another long pause as Logan tried to figure out the right thing to say. "Sorry babe, wish I could help."

She sighed "Me too." Then she changed her tone. "Enough about my problems, how's it going with you?"

"Real good. I'll be in Edmonton late tonight. I still don't have the slightest idea what I'm gonna do yet."

"Where are you staying?"

"Don't know. Where ever there's a vacancy sign, I guess."

"Oh."

"Hey Susie, you _really_ don't sound good. Do you want me to come down?"

"Don't be crazy! I'm ok. I'm just suffering from allergies."

"I could be there in three days."

"I appreciate that, but I'll probably be done and on my way back to New York by then. Besides, you need to do your own thing."

"It _could_ wait a little longer."

"Bright eyes, I'll be fine, I promise. I really _need_ to be alone to do this."

"Did anybody ever tell you you're stubborn?"

"All the time."

"All right, take care of yourself. I probably won't call again until something happens, ok? But if you really need me, my cell's turned on."

"Ok. I miss you Bright eyes."

"Me too, darlin'. Bye."

When the connection was broken, Susan went back to her drink and cry.

Logan continued driving, feeling torn and uneasy at hearing the need in her voice. He pulled into the hotel late and tried to settle in but couldn't quiet his thoughts. He still hadn't figured out exactly how to approach Elizabeth Howlett and he worried about Susan. Now that he was here he wondered if he should be. What would it really accomplish? He wasn't so naive as to believe his memory would miraculously come back and was realistic enough to be concerned about getting arrested if he wasn't careful.

He woke early the next morning, showered and had a quick breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Glancing through the local newspaper he found the answer to his dilemma. He never looked at the want-ads but today he was drawn to an ad for a groundskeeper at the Howlett Estate. He laughed aloud when he read it, not quite believing his luck. The ad said to call for an appointment so he did and was set up for that afternoon.

Driving to the estate he definitely felt like he'd been there before. Instinctively, he knew where to turn and what he'd see around the next bend. He spotted the stables and dressage arena, then tennis courts and glass enclosed pool house. He parked directly in front of the expansive stone front entrance. Nervous as a cat, he turned off the engine and sat there for a while and it suddenly occurred to him that he might not actually be meeting with Elizabeth. _Well, one step at a time, at least I'm here_, he thought. He bounded up marble stairs, taking two at a time and then fought the urge to just open the door and walk in, it felt that familiar. He rang the bell and after a few moments, a man, definitely the butler from his appearance, answered.

"Good afternoon." the man said crisply. "May I be of assistance?"

"I have an appointment. Names' Logan."

"Very well. You are expected. Please come in and wait here."

Logan was left to wait in the grand entrance hall. He had butterflies in his stomach and standing still was next to impossible, so he wandered around. Directly to his left was an ornately decorated music room with a white Steinway situated in the center. To his right was a formal dining room with over the top Victorian decor. Directly ahead was a massive marble staircase that split at a landing and led off to the right and left. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he went to the staircase where he spotted a painting; a family portrait of his parents, his brother and him. He remembered when the painting had been done. His brother had just turned fourteen, so that made him not quite seven. It was done right before; "Oh God" Logan said aloud right before they had contracted polio, right before his brother died.

Clearing his throat, the butler interrupted. "Come this way, please."

Following the butler down the grand hallway, he began to feel uneasy. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like a curse of doom was settling on him. Stopping in front of massive double wooden doors, he suddenly understood the cause of his feeling. This room was **the** study, the one in his nightmare. The butterflies in his stomach suddenly felt like rocks. _Of all the places...it had to be here. Shit, _he though. _Pull it together; you're too close now to screw it up. _With effort, he boldly walked in.

Sitting in a wing chair beside the massive fireplace that was filled with fresh flowers for the summer, was the woman Logan had come nearly three thousand miles to confront.

Elizabeth Howlett was elegant, well preserved and vital in appearance. She didn't have an anti-aging factor, but she did have good genes. She looked at him and for a brief moment, a look of shock crossed her face then composed herself instantly. The butler was just announcing the applicant's name, when Elizabeth cut him off. "I'm aware, Phillip. You may leave us."

Logan knew at that moment, she knew who he was.

Elizabeth stood resting her hand on the chair for support and quietly she spoke in her native Canadian French. J'avais ete mene a croire que vous etez absent et presume completement. "I'd been led to believe you were missing and presumed dead."

Vous auriez ete dits mal. "You were told wrong." His voice was dead calm.

She sat down, suddenly feeling faint and motioned for him to sit in the opposing chair. He didn't.

Mon deiu, vous ressemblez juste a lui. "My Lord, you look just like him!"

Qui? "Who?"

"Thomas." After a long strained silence she spoke again. "They told me you'd been in Beirut when the compound was bombed and they'd never found your body or anything. Where have you been for the last twenty five years?"

"It's a long story" he replied abruptly

J'ai le temps. "I have the time." she retorted just a sharply. Pour quoi etes-vous ici, James? "Why are you here, James?"

"I need to know some things." he answered in English. He could understand her perfectly, but he hadn't spoken it in too long. "I've got no memory of anything prior to sixteen years ago. I'm here….trying to….figure it out."

Elizabeth looked clearly shocked and frightened. Qu' est arrive' a vous? "What happened to you?"

"A lot of things you don't need to know about."

Vous dites qu'il est ete des ans seize. Pour quoi maintenant? "You say it's been sixteen years? Why now?"

Logan was growing impatient and irritated by her questioning. He just wanted to get the answers to his questions and clear the hell out. Stress beginning to overwhelm his control, he paced clenching his fists and jaw and his brown eyes blazed.

Vous etes vraiment comme votre pere. "You really_ are_ just like your father."

"Tell me about him" he barked. Realizing his control was slipping, he drew a deep breath to calm himself and forcing himself to speak softly, he asked "Who was my father?"

They were both startled by the doors to the study opening unexpectedly. In walked a late thirty-ish, tall, willowy, raven haired woman. "Oh! I'm sorry mother. Phillip was no where to be found and I didn't realize you had a guest."

"Julia Anne, veuillez entrer et fermez la porte. "Please come in and close the door." she said

Julia, sensing something strange from her mother's tone and taking in the sight of this scruffy stranger before her, immediately put on a defensive posture.

C'est votre frere. "This is your brother, James." Elizabeth spoke calmly though she felt anything but calm.

"I see." Julia sized him up coldly. She had only a vague memory of him. She had been very small child, younger than three, when he'd come back from school. She'd been told all her life that he'd been a 'black sheep' and had left home under what her mother phrased as _very difficult and unpleasant circumstances._

Logan sensed her hostility immediately and guessed she might be a formidable obstacle. She clearly wasn't the type to give into ass-kissing. He nodded acknowledgement. "Julia…… I wish I remembered you."

Her words harsh, "What can we do for you?"

Logan felt like he was sitting in a frying pan and someone was cranking up the flame too high. He didn't owe this woman any explanation, didn't remember her and he guessed by her reaction, she wanted him gone. "I've come to talk to Elizabeth, my mother, about some things" his tone of voice matching hers.

Determined to speak to him as little as possible, she turned to her mother. "What's going on here, mother? How do you know this man is who he say's he is? You told me my brother went missing and presumed dead years ago."

"Yes, I did tell you that and it's what I believed. Clearly I'm mistaken."

"Mother, has this man offered you any proof?"

"He doesn't need to. A mother knows her own son….. especially when he's a reincarnated version of his father."

"For God's sake mother, don't be naive."

"Julia Anne, please calm yourself. There is much that you don't know. I _have_ my reasons and I _know_ this man is who he says he is."

Julia raised her arms in pure exasperation. "I'll have no part of this" and turned on her heel to leave. "I'm heading back to the city."

Le trempe rapide semlent fonctionner dans la famille. "The quick temper seems to run in the family, eh." Elizabeth said with a guarded smile.

Je ne paur ais pas. "I wouldn't know." Logan replied.

Elizabeth stood again, sizing up the man claiming to be her long lost son. "Julia Anne is correct when she pointed out you have given me_ no_ proof of who you are. My son would be middle- aged and you appear to be her age. How_ is_ that?"

"I don't age like most people and don't get sick and heal faster than most. You _know_ that." he snapped

"I know_ nothing_ about aging." she shot right back. "Do you still have... those... _things_... in your hands?"

"You mean my_ claws_?" he spat. "Yeah, they're still here." Logan raised his fists and slowly ejected his claws.

"Dear God! Those are not as I remem..."

Logan cut her off. "No, they're not." "They're indestructible metal. _All_ of my bones are covered with it."

Comment? Porquois? "What? How?" Elizabeth was trembling

Retracting his claws, he tried to explain. "_Why_ is something I'm still trying to find out. How? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. It's done and I survived." Pacing again, he continued. "What _didn't _survive were my memories. Prior to 1988, I've only got fragments and I don't even know if they're real."

Comment etes-vous venus pour me trouver? "How did you find me?"

"DNA testing and luck."

Another long silence and finally Elizabeth offered. "If you return tomorrow morning for breakfast, I think I can answer your questions.

Relieved he asked, "What time?"

"Sept heures et matin"

He nodded. "Seven o'clock it is" then turned and exited without another word. Lost in tumultuous thoughts and feelings on the way back to the car, he was startled by Julia.

Her voice venomous, face hard as marble, there was a strong resemblance between them. "I know all about your type..."

Poised for confrontation he replied "Yeah! What's my type?"

"Down on your luck and out of options, so you concoct a scheme to swindle some rich widow..."

"Shut up" he growled.

"Or say, I go out on a limb and _believe_ you're actually my brother, but if you think you're going to butt in and assume a position in this family or_ my_ company, you're in for a rude shock. Take some advice, _whoever_ you are, pack up and _get out now_."

"Or _what_?"

"I'll see to it that you disappear_ permanently_."

He knew she meant it, but laughed sarcastically. "You can think whatever the hell you want, but let me tell you, lady, you've got no clue." He hopped in the car but before slamming the door, issued an invitation. "I'm staying at the Travelers Motel. If you want to send over your goons to make good on your threat, go for it." Then he punched down on the gas pedal and roared off, sending gravel and dust flying.

Meanwhile, in Texas, Susan awoke feeling ill. Was it the stiff drinks or something else? After a sneezing fit, she decided it was probably drink _and_ something else. Self-diagnosing a sinus infection, she took an antibiotic that she'd brought with her then went back to sleep for a few more hours. When she awoke, feeling slightly better she decided to tackle her father's study once more. His safe contained what first appeared to be ordinary items; a few pieces of jewelry that had belonged to her mother and few bonds and insurance policies. A brown, unmarked accordion folder piqued her curiosity. It was bulky, stuffed with papers, and a few CD's. Handwritten on charts and discs were corresponding nine digit numbers. She read through one of the charts; flow sheets, progress notes, ECG and EEG readouts, labs, all seeming to document extremely delicate and complicated neurosurgery. The number on the chart seemed familiar; her brother's social security number and a quick glance at one the insurance policies confirmed it. She didn't remember Jason undergoing neurosurgery and even if he did, _why_ would his medical records be_ here_? The dates of the surgery stopped her cold; taking place _after_ he had died. She went over it again, thinking she'd misread.

Then she read the other chart. Its nine digit numbers meant nothing to her. Again, notes detailing medical procedures; though not neurosurgery, but procedures and tests not easily classified in any one specialty. One particular documention struck as odd; a lot of time and effort had been devoted to charting tissue, bone and nerve damage and healing rates. Whomever this was seemed subjected to bizarre but a specific type of trauma. She couldn't think of any valid reason to collect data like this and it occurred to her that she was looking at documentation of experiments. Why did her father have this information?

Continuing to read, she discovered the subject involved had undergone complete replacement dental work. Every tooth had been remove and replaced, upper and lower jaws had been bonded with _adamantium_! She looked back at the dating, almost seventeen years ago. She pushed back a frighteningly obvious thought. It was too horrible to contemplate. Trembling, she inserted one of the CD's into the computer. Recorded, appeared to be an instructional medical/surgical video lesson, like she had seen in her medical school days. Students couldn't always be present for every type of surgery they were required to observe so; most medical schools had vast libraries of graphically detailed surgeries on video. What she saw sucked the air out of her lungs and ripped her heart in two. "No, no! Oh, dear God!" she shrieked.

Back in Canada, Logan couldn't find enough to occupy himself through the rest of the day so he finally ended up going in search of some hole in the wall joint to pass the time.

He found just the place, cage fights and all. He kicked the shit out of a few unfortunate souls and made a few bucks at it then drank to his limit and beyond. He stopped short of hooking up with cage groupies opting instead to go back to the hotel to call Susan. Maybe a little phone sex with the woman he loved would ease his frustration. All he got for his trouble was her voicemail.

Finally, he managed to doze fitfully and at six, he got up, shaved a little closer than normal, showered and dressed in one of his better button- down shirts and chinos and managed to arrive early at the estate. He was ushered into the dining room by the butler, invited to sit and offered coffee and the newspaper. Because Elizabeth and Julia had not made an appearance yet, he felt a creepy sense of de ja vue.

Elizabeth made her appearance at seven-sharp, but Logan sensed her before she even appeared and stood to properly escort Elizabeth to her seat.

Elizabeth was careful to keep her voice neutral as possible when she spoke. Je puis voir que votre perte de memiore n'a pas affecte vos facons. "I can see that your memory loss has not affected your civility."

"It depends." Logan answered her truthfully.

Je supposerais qu'il. "I would suppose it does. You say you have no memories prior to 1988? How is it that you knew, just now, my place at the table?"

"I said I have fragments of memories."

Julia arrived and took a seat directly across from him. They scowled at each other and Elizabeth had to stifle a chuckle at the resemblance and apparent equal temperament of the siblings. The Butler brought breakfast and set it on the sideboard. There was no conversation as they served themselves and ate. Finally, plates emptied and cleared, Elizabeth broke the ice. "James," she used his 'real' first name. "I made a deal with you yesterday. See that trunk in the corner? It contains everything I've kept from your childhood."

He interrupted. "I've got two things I want to hear about. Who's my father and what really happened in May 1966?"

"In due time, but I _insist_ you indulge an old woman."

Short and sweet it was not going to be. She held all the cards and he was being forced to play the game. "What are you talking about" he asked?

"I want to know where you've been and what you've done since you disappeared."

"You wanna know, eh?" he replied sharply. "For the last sixteen years I've been trying to find out who I am, what happened and why. In the last couple months, I turned up a few things. I'm going to blunt, ladies and I hope you can handle it." He drew a deep breath and began, "My first memory was of waking up in a snow bank, stark naked, sick as a dog and out of my mind. I had no clue about anything. I had a set of dog tags that had numbers and the word Wolverine on them and I did anything to survive…"

"Anything?" Julia questioned.

"Yeah. I ate from anywhere I could find something. I stole, hid out in caves, abandoned cabins, and I'm not proud of it, but I killed two soldiers just for their clothes." He ejected his claws. "I used these."

Julia gasped.

"I was an animal and probably insane." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Do you really want to hear this?"

Continuez, s'il vous plait. "Please continue, James." Elizabeth spoke gently.

I don't know why I'm not still like that, but after a while I guess I got my sanity back.

The only name I remembered was Logan, but I didn't know if it was my first or last name. Hell, at first I didn't even remember that people had first or last names. Then I knocked around Canada, the States and even Mexico trying to survive, find out who I was and what happened. The only real clues I had were nightmares of things you could never imagine."

"Like what?" Julia challenged

He glared and raised his voice. "All right, ya wanna hear it? I was an experiment. They cut me open and covered my bones with metal and implanted these claws." He forced himself to calm down. "Then a little more than year ago, I got the luckiest break of my life. I was rescued from a bad set-up and they helped me really begin to piece together my past. Then Susan tested my DNA and matched it to you."

"Who hurt you?" Elizabeth questioned while Julia simultaneously asked "Who are these people who helped you? Who is this Susan?"

"I don't know who did it to me but believe me someday I_ will_ find out….and" he let the implied threat hang. Again struggling for calm, he continued. "Charles Xavier runs a school for mutant kids. He takes care of them, teaches them to control their powers for good. Susan, well she's probably my savior. She helped me put all the pieces together."

Comment avez-vous vecu toutes ces annees? "How have you lived all these years?" Elizabeth questioned.

He was getting impatient with their questions and it showed. Ce qui? "What?"

Avez-vous ete employes? "What did you do, for employment and such? You couldn't stay a thief forever."

"I worked enough to get by" his reply vague.

Elizabeth threw in a question to test him. "What happened to your wife and son?"

His head snapped up in shock. "What the hell are you talking about? I was_ never_ married."

Elizabeth motioned for him to retrieve the trunk. "I believe your story." Apportez cela ici. Reposez-vous maintenant. "Bring that over here, please and sit." She took a long moment to compose herself and decide how to begin. "I'm primarily responsible for how your life turned out because I made selfish and foolish choices." She rang a bell to summon more coffee then asked him to open the trunk. "I hope you have a lot of time because I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm going to continue up to the last communications I had about you. I promise I'll answer your specific concerns."

J'ai aussi longtemps que vous voulez. "I've got as long as you want." he answered calmly.

She pulled a scrapbook, one of many, from the trunk. She turned to her daughter, "Julia, it's important that you remain. Will your schedule allow it?"

"I'm not going anywhere Mother. You may be convinced about this man, but I'm not."

For three hours they poured over the contents of the trunk. Elizabeth did most of the talking, pausing from time to time to answer a question. She spoke eloquently, making it easy to listen. There were moments when everyone's composure was strained. There were moments when they roared with laughter over some of the cute and funny things he'd got into as a child.

Elizabeth broke down when she began to describe the decision she made that sent him away after the murders. "When it was discovered that you were mutant, and you must remember how long ago it was," she was struggling to find just the right words, "the current thinking; policy, I suppose, was that they were sent away and re-educated, taught to hide their differences. I was so distraught after the murders and the doctors told me you'd only become harder to manage. They said you might be dangerous and convinced me that you were beyond_ my_ help and _that_ school was the best place for you. Of course there was your grandfather, well, not actually_ your_ grandfather, but John's father. He knew who your_ real_ father was and bargained that if I'd send you away, he would see that I would retain my privilege and position within the Howlett Family. At that time he didn't know the child I was carrying was also Toms and since he died before Julia was born, my secret was safe. I had your unborn sister to protect and didn't want you to complicate matters. So, I signed custody of you over to the province and made sure any connections to the Howlett name were severed. I didn't want the scandal, God forgive me. When you aged out of the school at eighteen, you came home angry and bitter. When you told me about terrible things that happened to you I didn't want to deal with you and told you to leave. I sent you away for a second time."

Then she handed him a stack of post cards and notes. "You sent these over the years. Even though you were rightfully angry, you always thanked me for the money I sent you and let me know you were alright." A tear trickled down Elizabeth's cheek. "When you were twenty you got into serious trouble in California. You were deported but after much legal maneuvering, I arranged for you to return home."

Quel genre d'ennui? "What kind of trouble" he asked.

"There was some sort of concert; I believe the place was called Altamont. You were allegedly involved with a group known as The Hells Angels. When the concert erupted into a riot and people were killed, members of the Hell Angels were blamed. Your involvement was never proven, but being a Canadian citizen I suppose you were an easy scapegoat. Back home, you tried to fit in and even went to university for a while but so much damage had been done and you couldn't cope, I suppose. You got into troubles several times with drugs and your violent temper. Just after your twenty first birthday, you nearly killed someone and were facing prison. I found and paid for a judge to give you another chance, the military. You left and I never saw you again. You sent these postcards from time. One of your postcards from Japan mentioned that you had married a local girl and were expecting a child.

"Jesus!" Logan exhaled. "I don't remember."

Vous m'avez envoye' que une note vous annoncant a eau un enfant. "You sent me a note announcing a son." Elizabeth handed him a yellowed piece of paper.

The note was penned in French** 16 May, 1981. ****Mother, I'm well. You're a grandmother. Mariko gave birth on May 14 to James Tashida Logan. I will forward a photo soon. Regards, James.**

Logan was visibly shaken by this revelation. "Is there a picture? Is there anything else?"

Le non, la n'est pas. "No, there isn't. The next communication I got from you was a very brief card from Beirut Lebanon saying you'd been assigned there and it mentioned nothing about your wife and son." Next, she handed him an official letter from the Canadian Ministry of Defense.

He unfolded it and began to read: We regret to inform you that James Andrew Logan has been declared missing in action... The date on the letter was November 1, 1983.

"I contacted the Ministry to inquire about other avenues to search for you and also inquired about your wife and son. The Ministry would only tell me you were assigned to Lebanon with no listed dependents. I did manage, with the help of a detective, to learn that your wife and _my_ grandson had been killed just prior to your assignment to Lebanon."

Disbelief and pain written on his face, he asked, "That's all?"

Elizabeth sighed "That's all" and began to weep. Even Julia wiped a tear from her eyes.

Logan felt like he'd been run over by a steamroller. He sat at the vast, antique dining room table amid the scraps of this life unable to react. For a long time, they were silent, lost in private emotions. Finally, he stood, had to move around. He paced and stretched, then excused himself for the restroom.

"It's down the hall and to the..." Julia offered.

"I know." Logan answered a bit roughly, then back-tracked, "Sorry."

Taking advantage of his absence, Julia started in on Elizabeth.

"Mother, how could you keep this to yourself all of these years? "

"Darling daughter, I can't answer right now. We _will_ take time, just you and I, and I'll_ try_ to explain."

"What_ other_ secrets are there?" Julia asked, suspicion in her voice.

Elizabeth looked away.

"Elizabeth," Logan said, returning, "I need a copy of my birth certificate."

"Pour quoi?"

He thought a reason for needing his birth certificate would be obvious, his irritation evidenced by his flippant reply. "What the fu--, I'd kinda like to get a life."

She glared sternly. "Rudeness is not necessary. I'll contact my attorney. I suppose it could be arranged for tomorrow."

"Then I guess I can wait."

Back in Texas, Susan didn't have the courage to switch her cell phone off voice mail. She couldn't talk to Logan, not yet. She could barely think about it herself. She often wondered why any conversation about Alkali Lake caused such a negative reaction from him and now she understood. If his nightmares were anything like what she witnessed from the discs, she wondered how he ever slept because they were giving her nightmares.

How could she share this with him? She'd been in the unenviable position of breaking bad news; it came with the territory of being a doctor. Shouldn't that be preparation enough? She didn't think so in this case. She debated destroying them, but realized she couldn't live with deceiving him. She could wimp out and hand everything over and leave it at that, but he'd want to know how she got it and eventually make the connection between her and William Stryker.

She barely held back tears contemplating how much he was going to be hurt by this.

That's what she feared most; how would he feel? Betrayed? Probably. Furious? Definitely. How would he react? Calmly, rationally? Doubtful. Violently? Strong possibility. Would he believe that until a few days ago, she had no inkling of her fathers' involvement with Logan?

She thought back to that Saturday morning in her kitchen and remembered telling herself not to get in too deep because instinct warned involvement with him might prove painful and dangerous. _So much for paying attention to inner-voices_, _better be prepared for this to be over,_ she told herself. Would their love for each other be enough to get through this? She wasn't sure, but she'd stand by him, if he'd let her. Finally, after endless internal debate, two sleepless nights and a three and a half hour flight back to New York, she decided on a course of action.

Logan had the contents of the trunk spread out on the bed and second bottle of whiskey in hand; he was determined to go through it, whiskey and the trunk. Looking through it felt like looking at anyone's life but his. He'd let a fantasy of memories coming back run loose and now he felt let down.

He'd actually spent two days with Elizabeth since she'd invited him back and they'd made an effort to get to know each other. It had been awkward and he tried to feel something for her, but he really felt nothing. He said he'd keep in touch, but he really didn't mean it.

All he really wanted to do was talk to Susan, but kept getting her voice mail and after trying half dozen times throughout the day and night, was definitely getting edgy. So, a few hours later and two more bottles of booze, he really didn't give a damn, at least for a while. Before he passed out, he called once more and left a voice mail saying he was starting back the next morning and he was going to stop by a small town on the Manitoba side of Hudson Bay and look up his father's family. Then, he ended by saying he missed her.

Later, checking her voice mail, Susan listened to his message. He sounded wasted, but she couldn't be irritated with him and missed him, too. She wasn't going to let him begin the long return trip back home without talking to him, so dialed him back.

Logan's cell rang five times before he heard it in his alcohol induced sleep. "Yeah" he answered groggily.

"Hey, it's me."

Hearing her voice cleared his senses. "Where've ya been? I've been calling for something like three days." he said gruffly.

"I'm sorry. It's been... well, crazy. How'd things go?"

"Ok. Where are you?"

"Home. Got in yesterday."

"Oh"

"Logan, are you ok?"

"Yeah. Just a little ... wasted."

"How come?"

"Just bored, you know. Hey, what did you decide about the Ranch?"

"Nothing for the moment. It's in good shape so I just decided to think on it some more. Did you get what you went after?"

"Yeah and I've got a lot to show you. It's pretty damn amazing." His words seemed upbeat, but the tone of his voice wasn't.

"You don't remember do you?"

He sighed, "Not a damn thing."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever."

What's this about you stopping by the Hudson Bay on your way back, something about your father?"

"According to Elizabeth, that's where he was from. You remember when you asked if I have any Indian blood in me? Well, apparently_ his_ mother was full-blooded Ojibwa"

"So that's where that wild man in you comes from" she joked.

"Right. I'll show you a wild man."

"Promises, promises" she teased.

"Since I'm up here, I thought I'd check it out. Probably won't find much, but I'll always wonder if I don't."

"I understand Bright eyes. Hey, before you hit the road again, check all the fluid levels in the car."

"Already done." His tone softened. "I can't wait to get back, Sue. I'm _really_ missing you."

"I miss you too, lover. Be careful."

"Yeah. See you Thursday or Friday." He switched off his phone, completely sobered up and feeling better for having spoken with her.

Back at her office, Susan called Charles Xavier on the intercom, "Could you come to my office, please. I've got something... I really need your advice"

"I'll be there momentarily." Charles answered and it wasn't more than five minutes when he whirred into her office.

She d been on edge for the past several days and got right to the point. "Charles, one of the assignments you gave me when I came here was to help Logan discover his past and you're aware we've made progress."

Giving his full attention, Charles nodded.

"Actually, it's been more successful than I ever thought possible..." She faltered, at a loss for words, wanting to convey professionalism, but too emotionally involved. "Charles" her voice trembled, "go into my mind. I can't sort through this."

His face was passive as he probed her mind and when he was through, spoke quietly. "I am deeply remorseful" and clasp her hand. "I became aware that your father was deeply involved in mutant experimentation when he stole Cerebro but was not aware of his connection to Logan. It's very strange, after Alkali Lake, he never asked me to go into his mind about his past again and anytime Alkali Lake was brought up, he reacted with hostility."

"I know. Charles, I know what I_ must_ do but just don't know how to do it." She fought back the urge to weep.

"At the moment, I'm more concerned about you. This has been a terrible shock. It's a burden and possibly a danger I never meant to put on you."

"You didn't put a burden on me and no one held a gun to my head and made me get involved with Logan."

"Still, I feel responsible. How are you coping with….knowing the truth about Jason?"

Anger flashed on her face. "What _is_ the truth? According to my father, he was a homicidal maniac. I _do not_ believe that. He spent a few years with you,_ could_ he have done that?"

"No, I don't believe so. Your brother was extremely powerful and had the potential to be a stronger telepath than I, but he was one of the kindest young men I've known."

Susan looked ill, "That leaves me with some very ugly conclusions."

He nodded and appeared as distressed as she. "I am so very sorry."

"Thank you." She paused to gather her thoughts. "How do you think Logan will react?"

"I'm uncertain and you are correct to be cautious. What's your plan?"

"I'm still working on that."

"Do you want to do it here?"

"No. The fewer involved, the better, I think. You know how closed up he can be."

Charles nodded. "If you like, I could keep close tabs with Cerebro and intervene if warranted."

"How?"

"I _can_ control individuals through Cerebro, if absolutely necessary, so if I sensed any danger to you, I could stop it."

"Really? How dangerous is that?"

"Not dangerous, but not pleasant."

"What do you mean?"

"I can render him unconscious though he'd probably suffer the worst headache of his life as a side-effect."

She winced. "It's a reasonable safety net, I suppose. Could you focus on me at the same time? Perhaps I could project a thought _if _I needed help."

"No, that's not possible. I can't focus on mutants and normals simultaneously."

"Then you'd focus on him and intervene if you sensed one of his rages coming on?"

"Correct."

"Would he know you were doing it?"

"Not immediately."

She was silent a while. "We both believe in a higher power and I think this is one of those situations where leaving it to _Him_ is best."

"Indeed. But using the gifts He gave us isn't cheating."

"No, it's not." She agreed and finally gave into the urge to weep.

Much later that night, Charles used Cerebro to track and look into Logan's mind. Charles normally didn't invade the privacy of his employees in such a manner but shared a great portion of the responsibility for helping to uncover Logan's past and he'd better damn well be able to help control the fall-out from the endeavor. Charles got a mind-full of images, but ultimately believed that Logan would not harm Susan.

Eighteen hours on the road leaves a lot of time for thinking and that's exactly what Logan did on his way back from Manitoba. He'd gone through more changes and made more discoveries in the last year and a half than in the past seventeen years. If anyone had suggested that he'd be coaching at a school and part of a team of do-gooder-geeks, he'd have rearranged their faces. Wasn't fate a screwy thing? What would things be like if he'd never picked up Marie? The answer to that was almost too horrible to contemplate. Magneto would have gotten to her and his plot would have surely lit off a world war between mutants and normals. And then there was the whole Alkali Lake thing. Yeah, he got some answers, but he got a lot more questions too. The cost had been too high and he'd never forgive himself for it.

He 'settled' at Xavier's School only intending to stay for a while when Susan Harris walked into his life. He fell so hard for his head spun. He didn't believe in love at first sight, let alone love. But right off the bat, it was something extraordinary. Chemistry, what a stupid cliché, but that's what it was and both felt it. He felt balanced and safe with her though he had no idea what he did for her. Yet, he knew he made her happy somehow.

It had been nearly two weeks since he'd been with her and he was getting damned lonely. The temptations on the road were getting to him but those old ways just didn't cut it now. The thought of mindlessly fucking some woman was repulsive. He'd come close one night in Manitoba. He'd had too much to drink and was feeling sorry for himself because he couldn't get her on the phone, so he'd gone as far as following this chick to an out- of- the -way spot, but when it came time to put out, it felt so wrong. The chick must have thought he was crazy but he didn't care. Instead, he just left and went back to his hotel, took a very long shower and tried to sleep. An insight struck like a bolt of lightning: A significant reason for his over-the-top libido was loneliness. He could 'scratch the itch' with anybody, but until Susan came into his life, nothing could fill the emptiness inside. She did both very well. Now, he was just two hours out from Westchester and her; back to his life and his lover.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sleeping lightly, Susan heard the garage door rumble open and glanced at the clock; 11:49. _He made great time,_ she thought. Logan had called earlier that evening to say he'd be in around midnight. She hopped out of bed and threw on her robe.

"Sue, it's me" he called out.

They met in the family room. "Didja miss me?" he asked and enveloped her in his arms.

Melting into his arms, lifting her face for a kiss, she replied "And how. I'm so glad your home"

He groaned and stretched. "Me too. I pushed it straight through from Toronto" he continued and went for a beer. "I've got a trunk load of stuff I brought back with me."

She perched herself on the breakfast bar stool. "How was Manitoba?"

"Ok. Seems like my old man had a wife and _more_ kids."

"Yikes! That's complicated. Did you meet anyone?

Leaning against the 'fridge, he replied "No way! Didn't even try. I figured I'd better just leave that one alone."

"That was probably safe."

Closing his eyes, he swallowed down most of the beer. "Yeah." he answered absently. "Man, I'm fried. I'd forgotten how tough driving eighteen hours straight is."

With an I-told-you-so look on her face, she said, "Aren't you glad to have had the car?"

"Yes, dear" he answered sarcastically. "I'm going for a shower" he said with a longing, you-want-to-join-me look.

She smiled then stashed his travel bag in the laundry room, poured a glass of wine and wandered into the bathroom.

Standing in the doorway between the bedroom and adjoining bath, she watched him standing there, his back to her, head bent down, arms leaning against the tiled wall, letting the hot water run over his body_. Oh lord, what a body... so perfect; lean, muscled_ _and tight in all the right places._ She couldn't figure out what she'd done right to earn him as her lover. _Don't question it Sassy-Girl. Just take good care of him, _she thought.

She slipped off her robe and nightgown and stepped into the shower. Standing behind him, she massages his shoulders and back.

He let out a long, low groan. "That feels real good, babe. I may not look like I age, but I feel like it right about now."

"Well let's see if I can make you feel as good as you look." she purred and pressed a kiss on his back.

He turned to, scooped her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

After a bit, their passion was cooled by the shower water beginning to cool. "We'd better get rinsed. It's about to get a little chilly in here" he suggested, getting the brunt of the changing water temperature. They rinsed off quickly, dried each other with warm towels, slipped into bed, made love again and finally slept soundly in each other's arms until the alarm went off at six.

That morning, before leaving for the clinic, she told him that she'd found more about his past and asked when he wanted to see it.

Yawning, buried under the covers, he asked," What's it about?" She pretended not to hear the question. He got up and headed for the john and when he emerged asked the same question.

She deliberately dodged the question, answering another one that she guessed would be coming. "You know how when you're looking so hard ... and then sometimes it right in front of your nose?"

Confused and irritated, he said "What?"

Slipping on her shoes and glancing at the time, realizing she was running late, she kissed him and pinched his backside. "I love ya. Gotta go. See you after lunch?"

"Ow! Hey, wait a minute..." he wanted his question answered, but she was gone before he could grab some pants and follow.

"Hell with it," he muttered to himself and crawled back into bed.

On her way to the clinic, Susan called Charles to let him know that Logan was back and that she was planning on going over the Alkali Lake data with him that evening.

Later on that morning, Logan met with Charles. Now that he had a copy of his birth certificate, he could get a drivers license and all the other trappings of a real life and as a Canadian, he needed a sponsor to stay in the country and work. He felt sure Charles would help.

Then he got busy with helping Scott with some programming upgrades in the Danger Room. There were not many instances where Scott and Logan got along but this was one where they_ did_. Logan could ferret out weakness and strengths in a training sequence and through his feedback, Scott had the computer savvy to tweak the programming.

Hot, sweaty, and thirsty, Logan walked into the control room. There was blood on his t-shirt from a wound that had just healed. "Damn, either this new program is really good or I'm seriously rusty from being on vacation."

"I'm taking that as a compliment either way" Scott answered. "How was the trip?"

Logan shrugged. He could get along with Scott under certain conditions but wasn't comfortable sharing personal details.

Reading his reticent attitude, Scott went back to all business mode and began to quiz him about various aspects of the program.

"I think you did good" Logan complimented, "but I wanna try it with the fail-safes off."

"That I'll want to see. You nearly got your butt kicked just now."

"Ya got no faith. Out there on a mission, there's no fail-safe. Who better to test it to the max?"

"You've got a point, Logan. All right, tomorrow morning?"

"Ummm. Not sure of the time. I'll call ya."

"It's either tomorrow morning or not until Monday."

"You in a hurry?" Logan snapped, not tolerant of pressure.

"Yeah, I am. The professor wanted this up and running two weeks ago. I waited for you to get back so we could do the testing."

"Well I'll guarantee you it _won't_ be tomorrow morning. So I guess Monday's it." Logan stalked out of the control room relishing the fact that he managed to piss Cyclops off yet again. Then he took a shower and cruised by Susan's office to see if she was through for the day but was surprised to find out she'd already left. They usually met on Friday evenings and went out. Finally he remembered that she had something for him to see.

He hopped on his Harley and sped to her house.

Waiting for him, Susan was nervous as a cat in a room full of Rotwielers. She'd had two glasses of wine already and still didn't feel any less anxious. She heard his motorcycle pull into the driveway and met him at the door with a cold brew and a kiss.

"A man could get used to this." he said with a satisfied grin. Then he sensed her nervousness. "What's a matter?"

"Nothing. Do you want pizza for supper?"

"Nah. I had way too much pizza on the road. How 'bout steaks on the grill?"

"I didn't thaw any."

"Well, I _can_ run to the grocery."

She snapped, "If you really want steak that much, fine."

"Hey, come on. What's with you?"

"Nothing... Oh Lord. It's just that..." She grasped a bunch of wavy, blond hair and twisted it into a pony tail, something she did when nervous. "I've got this stuff you need to go through. It's… really intense."

"What?" Logan was vexed by her behavior.

"Before I give you this, I want you to promise something."

He gave her a hard, questioning look. "Ok" he said tentatively.

"Don't ask me_ any_ questions until you've gone through it_ all_."

"Why?"

"Please, just do as I ask." she pleaded and then handed him the brown folder.

Logan opened the folder and took out one if the charts. Clearly marked were the words "Weapon X-Classified". He shot her a questioning look and then said "Better make it pizza tonight." He sat down on the couch and spread out the contents of the folder. "Where did you..."

"You promised; no questions until you finish."

Her evasiveness grated on his nerves and he muttered an expletive. He cursed out loud when he saw the first page that had his code name and dog tag number on it. He tensed, his expression hardened as he read.

Wanting to evade more questions, she phoned for pizza.

"Can I ask what's on the video discs?" he asked with sarcasm.

"You need to see it" she replied and brought another beer.

He took a deep chug. "Thanks" he said and handed her the disc.

She popped it into the driver, handed the laptop to him, and got busy close by.

As the video commenced it took him about a second to realize what he was looking at. "Jesus Christ!" he said forcefully, continuing to watch the screen.

_Naked and secured at the wrists, elbows, neck, ankles, knees and waist to a metal grid_, _he has marks drawn on the lower half of his body highlighting where bone and joints met beneath skin and muscle. Someone moves closer to his head and attaches two insulated wires near his temples. _

"Where the hell did you find this?" his voice was harsh and low. He gripped the kitchen table edge so hard a blue-ish tint from his metal knuckles were clearly visible beneath the skin. She couldn't answer for crying. Her tears softened him and he went to her to rub her shoulders. "I take it you've looked at this stuff?" She nodded.

The room suddenly seemed confined and _very_ warm. "I've got to get some air" he said and walked out to the patio. Feeling agitated and unable to be still, he broke into a jog toward the woods. His mind reeling with images, he starts to flashback. It takes hold of his mind, his very being and as he stumbles through the trees his mind implodes under the pain and the fear and the hatred that's surfaced. When reality finally returns, he's leaning against a tree, sweating, shaking and head pounding with a violent headache and then staggers back to the house.

Susan is tending to the pizza delivery man so he goes to the liquor cabinet needing something stronger than beer. A bottle of scotch will do. Uncapping it, he takes a belt and it burns going down. Fortified with liquid courage, he went back to the computer, but soon is lost, unable to separate the video images from his ongoing flashback.

_From the fine wires attached to his temples electricity is shot through his brain, into his spine, his body convulses and bone claws involuntarily eject. He's bound so his claws slice into his thigh and he cries out_

He remembers the agonizing sensations of electrical shocks jolting his brain, like someone slamming him with a bat. His head begins to pound even more as aura's of light dance before his eyes.

_Someone curses and demands to know why inhibitors were not in place to control his claws. Someone else apologizes and corrects the problem._

He remembers how his vision faded and sounds seemed muffled and distant and how he couldn't feel, think or react and how the sense of oblivion didn't last long before he was again assaulted by more searing pain; intense, excruciating and relentless.

_They're making incisions with laser scalpels. He begs for it to stop as someone jams a laparoscope into him. Then another metal hose is jammed into a different incision. He's on fire as molten metal is fused to bone. He screams until unconsciousness takes hold._

_The platform he's strapped to lowers into a tank of fluid. He struggles. When the platform is finally raised he expels a lungful of air, gasping, choking and gagging. They shock him again and he convulses before lapsing into unconsciousness._

He remembers the raw panic of being submerged, the rage as he struggled and finally powerlessness as he's overpowered.

_Next, he's in some sort of room; sterile, cold, ugly, more like a cell, drifting in and out of consciousness, moaning and crying out. He tries to raise his head but falls back unconscious again._

_More slowly next time, he raises his head carefully sits up looks around then swings his legs off the bed and tries to stand, but his legs buckle. He grabs for the edge of the bed to steady himself. Slowly, using furniture for support, he makes his way to the bathroom._

As he watches the video he's feeling it again; shaking and aching, freezing cold, yet sweating; just like the reaction he had to the toxic adamantium as his body assimilated it. His muscles again feel like rubber and his joints ache from the added weight of the metal bonded to his bonesSuddenly waves of vertigo, cold sweat, gut cramps, nausea rollover him and he feels his stomach heave. Lurching for the toilet, he barely makes it, drops to his knees then vomits and heaves until his guts feel like exploding. Susan follows and kneels beside him. He shakes his head and gasps "Go 'way."

_He curls up on the floor shivering. After a while he sits up, hits his head on the edge of the toilet and curses. He stands and slowly staggers back to the bed._

_A close up shows his face is smeared in dried blood and a trickle of blood running from his nostrils._

Pulling himself together he runs water to wash off and rinse the taste of vomit away and recalls how every orifice on his body bled, another reaction to the toxic adamantium. He grabs yet another bottle, vodka this time, and continues with the video.

_While he was unconscious, food had been brought and left on the bedside table. He nibbles some then pushes it aside. Then he lies down and closes his eyes. He tossing and turning and twitching and raking his skin._

He recalls how it felt like his innards and skin had been on fire and he'd have given anything to eject his claws and peel off his flesh as the toxic effects of adamantium continued torturing him. At some point, he finally did sleep but the nightmares, the same that plague him to this day, began; pain, panic, terror, can't breathe, can't move, drowning, sickness; all merging into an ugly, terrifying image swirling in his brain.

_Suddenly, he wakes in a frenzy and hurls himself at the door. Then he overturns furniture, his bedding and tries to eject his claws but the inhibitors prevent it. Bellowing, he slams into walls, then finally sinks to the floor and curls into fetal position. Bloody and bruised, a soul-wrenching cry of anguish escapes his lips. _

_Later, the door opens and he springs like a caged animal to escape. They're prepared, having monitored him from a remote location and meet his rebellion with a searing jolt of electricity that slams him and he falls, gasping. Someone presses the stun gun directly against his leg and pulls the trigger. He screams and his body convulses as the metal in his body amplifies the already potent jolt. His vision fades and he's still._

_Then he's back in the augmentation chamber, restrained. Someone's marking his arms, ribs, sternum and shoulders. Struggling and screaming, they subdue him with a massive dose of tranquilizer and he's soon compliant. But it doesn't subdue him long enough, and he regains senses as they're snaking the 'scope through his chest. He howls in agony, begging them to stop, begging them to kill him. Annoyed by his screams, one of them places a laser scalpel to his throat and severs his vocal chords. Then they laugh as he chokes and continues to scream, now just a raspy rush of air_

If he actually lived a million years he'd never forget the sound of that pump feeding molten adamanatium into his body and of being cooked alive as the hot metal fused to his bones. To this day, the stench of burning flesh still made him violently ill.

_Someone was careless or maybe he twitched at the wrong moment, but a major blood vessel got nicked and immediately his chest filled with blood. Cursing and speculation are clearly heard. Someone asks if the subject will heal fast enough? Someone else orders quick repair of the damage, reasoning the subject would probably survive without it, but the loss of blood and subsequent recovery time would cause unacceptable delays in the timetable. Someone else says they must finish or the batch of adamantium will be ruined and besides with his chest open they can quickly bond everything_

_They flay his chest open like a fish and suction the blood from his chest cavity. They're working quickly as the incision is already beginning to heal though his vital signs are looking ominous. His comatose body is again submerged in the tank but when they raise him out of it, he's not breathing. They snake a tube down his throat to suction the thick fluid from his lungs and stomach._

_On the video it seemed only moments, but when he regained consciousness several days later, he was healed, strong and resistant. Again they tranquilized him then prepped him for the last round of bonding; spine and skull. Electrically activating the memory dampening micro-chips implanted earlier, he convulsed violently, his eyes rolled back and he passed out. Too soon he regained consciousness and his head's restrained in a halo-like device as molten adamantium is applied to his facial bones and skull. Then they moved him so they can bond his vertebrae._

He remembered the humiliation he felt as they bonded his backbone and his body reacted involuntarily to nerve stimulation. He remembered wanting to give up, to die but he didn't or couldn't. And then he remembered the overwhelming rage, the animal in him taking over. No matter how he struggled to keep hold of a thread of humanity, he couldn't.

_They came for him again. Reacting like a cornered wild animal, he snarls and lashes out and they use the stun guns again. That only enrages him more, drives out the very last vestiges of humanity. They back off, unsure of what to do. Returning later, they simply overpowered him with more personnel, jammed a tranquilizer in and waited for it to calm him. He fought, snarled and screamed. He bit and kicked. They took injuries, but in the end the tranquilizer prevailed and he's taken back to the chamber and strapped down._

_The video shows what appears to be a heated debate among uniformed and clearly high-ranking officials. Someone cautions that the subject seems to becoming more violent and unpredictable. Another makes accusations of moving too fast, of faulty technology, of yet another poor choice of a test subject. The highest ranking one storms' off and his words "failure is not an option" are recorded loud and clear._

Logan paused the video and belted back another long chug of booze, emptying the bottle. He looked around for Susan, who had fallen asleep on the couch and went to the bar, found a bottle of tequila and finally settled back in front of the computer again losing himself in the past.

_William Stryker himself draws markings on his forearms. "We're almost through. This is the last alteration" his voice oozes. "Soon you will be the Wolverine, the first real success and cornerstone of the program."_

_His raspy voice can be heard; "My name's... ...not Wolverine." _

_Stryker produces a rectangular box, opens it and displays six long, thin shafts of pure adamantium steel; elegant, indestructible and razor sharp. "This is the ultimate alteration. With your power to heal, your adamantium skeleton and these claws, you're virtually immortal and lethal." Handing the box to someone else, he orders, "Use the paralytic drugs. I don't want anything to go wrong." Before exiting, Stryker bent down close to his ear. "Don't worry, you won't remember a thing." _

_A flap of skin, tendon and muscle were laid open the entire length of his forearms and then three blades of adamantium were placed in each. The blades had been manufactured to fit perfectly over his existing bone claws. Then molten adamantium was carefully applied to 'solder' the bone claws and blades as one. This part of the bonding had to be precise so that the blades would align and operate correctly. _

_Stryker reappeared to attach electrodes to his forearms. "We need to test these" he said and removed wrist restraints. Then he inserted wires just under his skin and hooked them to the same power source used to activate the micro chips in his head. "With luck we won't have to go back and make any adjustments. By the way, it won't take you long to learn to work these yourself." The claws did not appear the first go-round so Stryker turned up the power and suddenly three metal claws ejected through both of his hands. He screamed as another jolt caused the claws to retract with a searing burn._

_"Perfect" Stryker said "It won't be long until you'll be able to manipulate them yourself" he re-emphasized. "You're going to make me a very rich man, Wolverine" he whispered with a sly wink. Then, Stryker retreated to an observation room above the chamber as protective suited technicians administered electric shocks to the wires protruding from his scalp. He violently convulsed, then struggled to turn his head to the side as he vomits into the tank below. Then he passed out._

Still gripped in the flashback, recalling the explosion of electricity going off in his head, the vertigo, cold sweat, waves of nausea and how he laid on the cold metal grid, shivering, ordering himself to breathe, not to vomit, the sensations were strong enough to force him away from the computer to the nearby garbage can. The feeling passed and he remembered with revulsion Stryker and others toasting their success with champagne as he's strapped down sick, naked and mind-fucked. Now he understood why he loathed champagne.

_Suddenly, he regained consciousness with a violent shudder and when he did, the claws ejected. He went totally berserk. His claws made contact with an orderly who couldn't get out the way fast enough. Logan slashed the support cables over the tank and the platform and he crashed into it. He emerged with a gasp and a guttural howl. Flailing and slashing, he raised himself over the edge and fell. Trying to break the fall, he cut and stabbed himself as he hit the cement platform. Up on his feet, raging and bellowing, searching for a way out; he bolts for an exit, bleeding, naked, insane, slashing and out of control. _

The computer screen went blank and he stared at it in a daze, unsure of reality.

He quickly becomes aware of a familiar burning sensation in his knuckles. His claws are extended. He bellows and slams his claws into the computer, sending forth a shower of sparks and waking Susan. She screamed and then composed herself before timidly asking if he was ok. The look on his face and the claws told her that he was definitely_ not_ ok.

Questions are swirling in his mind. Foremost is how did she find this when no one else had? What sort of connections did this woman have and to whom? He glared at her and then barked "How the fu---?"

She cut him off. It was time to tell the rest of the story. Struggling to keep her voice even, "I found this at the Ranch". She was trying hard to make her voice even and strong. "This was in my fathers----"

Logan cut her off. "Your father's! Who the hell is your fa...?" A look of utter disbelief crossed his face. "Your father's Stryker?"

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes again. "Logan, I am so sorry. I had no idea until I went through all of this stuff."

He felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. His mind reeled and he looked at her like he didn't know her. "I've gotta get out of here." he hissed as the stalked out of the back door.

She stood in the doorway, sobbing. "Logan, I didn't know. I love...".

"Just shut up. Leave me alone" he growled and then paced around the patio, his mind flooded with conflicting thoughts and feelings. He felt betrayed and deceived yet cursed his own self-centeredness and ignorance. She'd hid her identity so well. He'd been so focused on his own past, maybe he'd missed something. He couldn't remember asking her parent's names. When she'd spoke of her childhood or family, she'd always just called them Daddy or Mami. How could she_ not_ know? Stryker was her father! His logical side reasoned she'd had been estranged from him for years and these experiments were so secret that she couldn't have known unless she'd been directly involved. He laughed bitterly at the irony of the situation. Didn't it just figure that when he'd finally found some peace and stability, something like this would happen? He loved the daughter of the man who'd stolen his identity, humanity, dignity, memory; everything.

Suddenly, consumed with self-loathing and uncontrollable rage he roared and slammed his clawed fists into a tree at the edge of the patio, splitting it. He turned and glowered at her, his brown eyes like burning coals. Susan paled with fear. Walking toward her, he thought of running her through with his claws. _No, too easy and fast; just beat the shit out of her._ He wanted to hurt something...someone; make them feel the same pain.

She looked straight at him searching for the good in him. Summoning her courage, she spoke evenly, "I am _not_ my father. I did not do this to you. I hate what he did to you as much as you, if not more. For Gods sake," her voice rose, "he destroyed my brother, too. Hurting me isn't going to fix this." He was either going to hear her or she was dead.

Somehow, her words penetrated his blind rage. He was just inches and seconds away from committing the unthinkable against her. He retracted his claws and his rage was replaced by raw desperation. He pulled her close. "I need...," he pressed his face into the curve of her neck,"goddamn it, I need-"

"What?" trying to soothe, she stroked her hands over his back "What do you need?"

"You" He spun her around, shoved her back against the door in a move as sharp and shocking as whiplash. His mouth cut off her gasp of surprise in a kiss that burned toward savage. "I need you" he stared down into her wide, stunned eyes and crushed his body roughly against her.

She gasped. "Logan, you're hurting me!"

He smelled her fear and as suddenly as he tried to take her, he pulled back, sickened and ashamed. He trembled, his chest felt like a ton of bricks were set upon him, and he couldn't breathe. He turned away and bolted out the door.

"Logan?" She called out, trying to suppress the fear in her voice. He leaned against the doorframe, head down and shoulders slumped. She went to him and touched his shoulder. If there was ever a make or break moment, this was it. She could think of no words so prayed her touch would be enough.

He shook his head and flinched, hating himself for what he'd nearly done to her. He needed to get away and somehow put a lid back on the overpowering rage he felt.

She withdrew her hand. "Logan" she whispered.

Still leaning against the doorframe, unable to look her in the eye, "My God, I 'm sorry, so sorry" his voice quavered. "Susan, I love you. I could have..."

"Ssshh...," she reached out, "there's no right or wrong here." Tears spilled from her eyes.

He shuddered, trying to hold back the ugliness and pain consuming him, then turned to her, eyes tightly closed, arms crossed over his chest, struggling against insurmountable emotional pain.

She was still afraid he would revert to his feral, out- of- control side but loved him enough to risk it and pulled him into her embrace. "Let go of it, my love" she whispered.

She felt him struggle with tension, and then very slowly he relaxed. He wrapped his arms around her and his knees buckled. It took all her strength to support him as he sobbed like a wounded child, cleansing himself of pain, sadness and rage pent up for so many years. She cried with him and for him. She cried for her brother and cried for the overwhelming hatred she didn't want to feel for her father. They held each other until the emotional storm subsided.

"We gotta talk," he choked.

They did talk; for hours. Where do they go from here? Could they keep it together? In a lighter moment, they speculated about Stryker's reaction to them being together. She laughed and then broke into sobs while he held her. After making tender, reaffirming love, they drifted to sleep in each other's arms feeling a little more secure they could keep it together; for themselves and to spite Colonel William Stryker. What they wouldn't know for weeks to come was they'd created another reason to keep it together. His seed had found the ultimate prize and deep with her body two miracles were begun.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

He awoke hours later and slipped out of bed being careful not to disturb her. He needed to think so he made fresh coffee and wandered to the patio. The late afternoon sun was hot on the brick floor and he paced back and forth to keep from burning his bare feet on the hot bricks. He had the answers he'd been seeking over the past seventeen years and then some. Maybe not the way he thought it would happen, but he felt like the ghosts and demons of the past were vanquished and that gave him a sense of peace and possibility that he'd never felt before. He was at a juncture in his life. It was time to choose a path and stay the course. The cliché 'get a life' flashed like a neon light in his minds eye.

Right here and right now was the life he wanted. He wanted to stay with the Team and coaching and teaching were satisfying for now but most of all, he_ wanted_ Susan; she_ had_ to be part of his life, had to be…. his_ wife. _The temperature on the patio had to be ninety degrees and his toes were definitely hot on the bricks, yet a cold chill shot right up his spine. Yeah, he'd just gone off the deep end and hoped Susan would be willing to follow.

His reverie was broken by Susan joining him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and noticed the intense concentration on his face. "What are you thinking about?"

"How much I love ya." he planted a wet one on her mouth.

She looked at him and smiled.

"Get dressed and we'll get something to eat" he said enthusiastically.

"Dressy or casual?"

He shot her a 'do- you- need- to- ask look'

"Casual."

Casual it was. They went over to School and had Saturday night pizza. Then they hung out with the kids, played video games, shot pool and finally settled in to watch Shrek for the umpteenth time. Logan really wanted and needed to be there and his sudden change of attitude didn't go unnoticed though only two had an inkling of why. Electra understood because Susan had confided in her and, of course, Charles was completely aware though somewhat amazed at the pace and depth of change. They went back to her house late, loved on each other and slept soundly.

They spent the next day together. There was_ still_ much to talk over and more emotional healing to do. He needed her to understand that he still had many issues that might haunt him for a long time even with understanding where they came from. There would be "hot buttons" that he'd struggle with for the rest of his life. But he also wanted to her to believe that for the first time he really thought he had a good chance of putting all the issues into a controlled and workable perspective and he promised that he'd never, ever let the issues he'd had with her father come between them.

(to be continued, of course)


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The ususal.**

**Authors Notes: Sorry it's taken so long to post more. Life get's in the way.****These chapters are really focused on relationships and significant growth in the relationship between Susan and Logan. **

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Very early on a Monday morning Logan sauntered over to Victor and Electra's cottage, near Xavier's School. He never could understand why the place was called a cottage because at four thousand square feet, give or take, was the biggest damn cottage he'd ever seen. He wanted to see Electra before she left to workout with Sue which meant before six. He knocked on the door. It took a few moments before Electra, dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt, answered.

She was stunned to see him early in the morning as he was not a 'morning person'. "Miho, what's wrong?"

"Nothin's wrong. I, umm, need your advice. Got any coffee?"

"Si. Come on in." She ushered him into her kitchen and motioned him to the breakfast bar "Vic, Logan's here." she called out.

"Buenos dias, amigo." Vic called out from somewhere in the house.

"Mornin."

Electra brought two mugs and set them down then took the other stool next to him. "Advice? What sort of advice?"

He pulled a ring out of his pocket. It wasn't particularly attractive but the stone, a huge ink-black onyx, was breathtaking. "Elizabeth Howlett gave this to me when I went to Canada. Apparently it's my birthstone and, well the details aren't important."

Electra took and admired it more closely. "That's really something."

"Where can I take it and have it redesigned into a ring for Susan?"

She couldn't conceal a huge grin. "What kind of ring, miho?" Her intuition knew the answer.

He hesitated and then exhaled deeply. "Look, I want to keep this a surprise. I haven't mentioned anything to her yet."

He didn't have to explain anymore, she knew what he meant and couldn't resist giving him an excited hug and babbled in Spanish while he sat there with a glazed look.

Vic came in, wondering what all the excitement was about. Catching on, he admonished her to speak English.

She laughed. "Si, si. I know of a very special custom-jeweler. As a matter of fact, they helped to design our twentieth anniversary bands." She pulled her ring off for him to see it.

"Where's the place?

"SoHo."

"In the city?"

"Yes. It doesn't look like much, but the work they do is like no other. Do you have any idea what you want to do?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue, don't even know where to start. Would you... come with me?"

"I'd love too. I don't know how I'm going to get by Susan, though. Oh when are you going to ask her?" Electra couldn't contain her excitement. "Ay yi, yi. How am I ever going to keep my mouth shut?"

"You'd better keep your mouth shut." Vic spoke sternly.

Electra replied in Spanish something sounding harsh, but her face was smiling. Vic laughed.

Logan was getting antsy. "If you want to know, I'm planning on asking her as soon as I get the ring done."

"I think I could sneak away Wednesday afternoon. Does that suit?" she questioned.

"Yeah. Give me directions and I'll meet you."

"Good idea." she agreed then looked at the time, ten 'til six. "Gotta go or I'll be late for my run with... your fiancé." Dashing from the kitchen, "I promise to keep your secret."

Logan bent down to the counter, pretending to bang his head against it. "I should've done this myself." he groaned.

"Don't worry about it." Vic consoled with a swat on the shoulder. "She won't spill it. If anything, she'll throw Susan off the track."

There was a long silence as Logan sat at the counter drinking coffee, lost in his own thoughts and Vic puttered around trying to figure out something for breakfast."You think I'm crazy?" Logan asked

"I think you're crazy if you don't."

"You think she'll say yes?"

Vic paused. "Man, I can't answer that. I remember when I got the nerve up to ask Electra and I had _no_ idea what she was going to say. Who knows what women want?"

"Not shit. Gimme some more coffee."

Vic pointed to the coffee pot. "It's over there. Your legs broke?"

"What a pal"he smirked and refilled his mug. "I was going to buy ya breakfast at the diner down the road, but no way now."

"I wouldn't let a bum like you buy me breakfast anyway, but let's go. Electra hasn't been to the grocery lately and I'm_ not_ into yogurt and grape nuts"

Logan screwed up his face in disgust. "I don't know how anybody can eat yogurt. I can't even stand _smelling_ the stuff."

Meanwhile, Electra and Susan met at the usual spot for their morning run. There was a public park with a walking/biking path around the perimeter of a lake. As they began their fast paced warm up, Susan said "I need your help with something."

Electra almost laughed aloud. Where had she heard that? "Ok. What's up?"

"You know, August twelfth is Logan's birthday."

"Really?"

"Yes. Anyway, I want to throw a surprise party for him. Will you help me?"

"Absolutely. When, where and who?"

"It falls on a Thursday, so I was thinking the immediate Friday or Saturday and I'm thinking about having it at the school with everybody. Barbeque or burgers, all the fixins and just some fun but I don't want it to be too over- the- top. I don't want him to freak out."

Electra nodded

Susan continued, "You know he didn't even know when his birthday _was_ until just recently? I don't think anybody's ever recognized his birthday, let alone celebrate."

"I never thought of that! You know, he's not very sociable in big groups."

"Only if he's comfortable but I really want to do this for him. He's been through so much lately and one of his biggest disappointments has been that he just can't seem to remember any good memories so I want to build good memories for him."

"Well, I'm there for whatever you need." Electra promised. "Are we ready to pick up the pace." she asked and broke into jog.

"Guess so." Susan whined. She hated running but she felt like she had to do something to keep herself ahead of the aging curve especially with a boyfriend who looked younger. "What I wouldn't give to have just a little bit of anti-aging mutation." she huffed

"That makes two of us" Electra agreed. "By the way, how old is he?"

"August 12, 1950. You do the math."

On a very warm Wednesday afternoon, Logan straddled his bike in front of the jewelers, a funky- looking little shop with a hand painted sign over the front door: C & M Creations- Custom Jewelers. He sneered, rolled his eyes and muttered. It was hot sitting on the sunny side of the street and he wished Electra would hurry. He'd worked up a good sweat and a mild case of nerves by the time she arrived

Once inside, a couple greeted Electra like a long lost relative. Logan was pleasantly relieved that the man and woman were about Electra and Vic's age... hell, his age. Knowing about himself was something that still took a lot of getting used to. He was going to be fifty four but easily appeared thirty four. Christophe and Miriam, the jewelers, greeted Logan warmly at Electra's introduction though it was an effort for him to shake hands. He managed, but was glad to get down to business. It took about an hour, but he finally decided to cut the onyx to carat-size thus making up the center of the ring. On each side of the onyx were chips of diamond set in two parallel rows; all set in a platinum band. "Ok. What's this going to set me back?" he asked with slight trepidation in his voice.

The price; fifty four hundred bucks, stunned him, but he kept a poker face. _Ok, so the truck's going to wait a little longer_ he thought. Half of the deposit for the truck just got spent. He put down the required deposit and Christophe assured him everything would be ready in about ten days. Logan left the shop in a state of elation and just a touch of the jitters_. What if she doesn't go for this? Nah, she'll marry me. She's crazy about me. Just chill, _he told himself

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The evening was winding down as Logan gave Susan a nudge. "What'cha doin'?"

She turned from the computer, "Looking over this data."

Reading over her shoulder, he tensed. "I want you to get rid of that shit."

"Are you nuts?"

"No." his tone was harsh.

"Logan, I may have found something that's _extremely_ important. It might be related to your memory."

They'd been arguing about the Alkali Lake discs. She was convinced they were valuable. He didn't disagree but was deeply concerned she might be in danger because they named people, dates and places. Some of them were still alive and probably wouldn't take being connected to Weapon X too positively. Then there was the possibility that enemies, like Magneto or Sinister, for instance, might find the data extremely useful for their sick purposes. The how- to of working with adamantium was in the data and that in itself was worth the entire Gross Domestic Product of some small countries.

He'd been so angry about the whole thing that he threatened to destroy them but she'd leveled him with the fact that she had made back-ups. His eyes flashed dark with anger. "This whole thing is pissing me off."

She stared at him as if to say 'what are you gonna do about it?' She had a temper in her own right and he didn't intimidate her.

He stalked off muttering then slammed the kitchen door and paced around the sun porch. Temper not cooling, he stalked out to his bike and found a cigar stashed in a saddle bag.

Straddling his bike, blowing lazy smoke into the steamy summer air, he tried to figure out just_ what_ had him so pissed off. It boiled down to two issues; his fear of anything happening to her _and_ he wasn't used to being ignored. He couldn't_ make_ her dispose of the discs and she wouldn't let him protect her.

Susan _had_ discovered something important. A disc contained detailed information about a memory and behavior altering micro-chip specifically designed for him. The chips had been implanted beneath his skull before the adamantium bonding. They were activated by electric shocks delivered through two tiny wires that protruded from his scalp. The chips were designed to work together utilizing his brain waves to erase specific memories and prevent their return. _Well that was a bust_ she thought as she studied the data.

Continuing, she discovered what appeared to be personal reflections of the creator of the micro chip, Dr. Harlan Peabody, who lamented about _complete _memory erasure and increased violent behavior from the test subject. He expressed dismay that the test subject was being put through incomplete levels of testing. _You didn't think to try to stop it_ she thought angrily. She thought back to what she'd reviewed earlier and remembered how Logan seemed to suffer seizures at certain points when they'd bonded his bones. They zapped his brain with electricity; electroconvulsive therapy taken to gruesome extremes. The only reason his brain didn't fry was his healing factor. Ominously, the memory chips had been designed to destroy the brain of the host if tampered with. They could be de-programmed and removed _only_ by someone who knew how.

She dropped her head into her hands and wept. Every time she dug into this Alkali Lake stuff, she discovered more horrors. It really was no small miracle that Logan emerged from that place alive and with any humanity left.

She felt a gentle hand clasp her shoulder as she wept. "Hey, hey. I'm sorry." Logan thought he'd made her cry.

Feeling silly, she sniffed and composed herself. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Ok. Why the tears?"

"You've _got_ to look at this. This is _why_ you can't remember anything before Alkali Lake."

"Sue, I don't want to get into this tonight." he tried to sound understanding but it came out rough.

"Suit yourself. But don't bitch to me about destroying it, not yet anyway." she snapped.

"Woman, you're going to drive me crazy. I know _enough_. Let it go, please."

"After I've gone through all this, you want to let it go?"

"Sometimes... yes! Susan, what good is it really going to do? My memories are either going to come back or they're not and there isn't a damned thing I can do."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, maybe there is."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just_ read_ this, you mule headed..." she got out of the chair and pushed him into it.

He read and muttered curses. "Ok, it explains a lot I don't see where it really changes anything."

She thumped him on top of the head. "Logan, think about it." She wanted to scream 'how can you be so dense' "If something has been implanted maybe it can be removed and maybe removing them will restore your memory."

"After seventeen years? That seems like a helluva a long-shot. Besides, how are you planning on getting 'em out? Nobody's invented anything to get through adamantium and it says they're booby trapped."

"I don't have answers yet but I want to try. There may be a way to remove them laproscopically. There's actually a gap in your skull here" she touched both temples. Brain surgery has advanced so..."

Face screwed up in rage, he shouted, "Brain surgery! It's not happening! Nobody's ever cuttin' on me again."

"Just think about it, please."

"No! You're possessed, woman. Why is this so important?"

"Because my father was responsible for this. Maybe I turn something hideous and cruel into something just a tiny bit positive." She teared up again.

He stood and took her in his arms. "Please, don't cry. You're not responsible for what happened and I don't expect you to fix it. You don't owe me for the sins of your father."

"Somebody does." she sobbed. "Please let me pursue this. It may be the only thing I can do."

He threw his head back and heaved a deep sigh. "Do you love me?"

"With all my heart."

"Then, you're doing everything."

She buried her face in his chest. She didn't say anything more but planned to consult with a neurosurgeon. She'd present the facts and possibilities and then let Logan decide.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No." she said softly

"If I didn't love you so much..." he didn't finish. "Come on, it's late. Let's call it a night."

Soon afterward, Charles put Susan in touch with a specialist named Dr. Henry McCoy. _Hank_, as he liked to be called, had actually been Charles' first choice to replace Jean, but he was unavailable. He was a mutant and had worked with the X-Team before. Charles still hoped to bring him back on board with the team at some point in the future, expecting he'd work well with Susan.

She met with the imposing doctor over lunch. Though he utilized an image projector to 'mask' his inhuman appearance, Hank stood over six feet tall and probably weighed near three hundred pounds of pure muscle. He had a cultured demeanor, the mind of a genius and had studied numerous medical specialties, neurosurgery being one of them.

Hank knew of Peabody's work in bio-nano-technologies. He also knew about Colonel Stryker and was genuinely stunned to be lunching with his daughter. When she clued him in to her connection to Logan, he couldn't resist a chuckle and commented "It's an unbelievably small world."

"That's very true. Someone couldn't have written a more complicated drama" she added humorously.

Becoming serious, he continued "Do you think Logan would consent to an exam?"

"Doubtful. He's extremely oppositional about pursuing this."

"Yet you continue?"

"Let's just say I might be able to work on him over time. I just want to explore any possibilities of safely removing these chips. If we're talking impossibility then the issue is closed."

"My philosophy is nothing's impossible. Give me a few weeks to dig around. May I review the data that you have?"

"Of course but you'll have to come to the school. I'm not letting it go any place where it could fall into the wrong hands."

"Understood. Would Saturday morning suit?"

Susan smiled and nodded. "Thank you very much. Charles said I could count on you."

As much as Logan tried to put the 'memory chip' thing out of his mind, it kept bothering him enough to make him more edgy and foul-tempered that he'd been in quite a while.

Another neighbor down the street hosted the usual Friday night get-together. Logan wasn't really in the mood, but he let Susan talk him into it and that had been an inadvertent, but strategic error on her part because the host of the get-together was a neurologist. Doctors do talk shop and the evenings' conversation took a turn toward a patient he'd treated. Logan tried his best to filter out the conversation by engaging someone else in another vein of conversation. Finding no success in that tactic, and growing more agitated by the moment, he abruptly excused himself and left. When Susan tried to follow, he strongly told her to stay. He had to be by himself and when she tried to push the issue, he gave her one of his really menacing, I- mean- business, looks. She wisely backed down and returned to the party.

He had the strange feeling that a flashback was bearing down. At first it seemed like a whisper. Then it became more insistent, like a buzz deep inside his mind. A memory was trying to surface; real or implanted, he couldn't tell. He wandered down the twilight darkened street sucking down the remainder of a beer trying to quiet his thoughts.

He got back to Susan's house, went straight to the bar, grabbed the first full bottle and took a belt. Then he went to the screened porch and flopped down on a chair. Staring into the darkness he continued to quickly polish off the booze hoping the short-lived buzz he could induce would make feelings of agitation and doom cease.

Susan returned just as he finished off the last of the bottle and sat in a chair opposite him and softly asked "Want to talk?"

He didn't look at her "Nothing to talk about" he answered flatly

_Ok, so he's a brick wall tonight_ she thought. She stood and gently squeezed his shoulder, "I'm going to bed." and walked into house. She paused at the door "I love you." He didn't answer.

She was vaguely aware of him coming to bed sometime after two and he began to snore almost immediately. She gave him a little kick and told him to turn over. About an hour later she woke to him tossing and turning and muttering unintelligibly. She'd not witnessed one of his nightmares but remembered his warning from months ago. Her first instinct was to wake him. Instead she scooted over as far opposite as possible and became still.

His head lolled back and forth and he threw his arms out, as if to protect himself from something. "No!" he cried out. "Stop! Please, no more!" Suddenly a gut-wrenching, animalistic howl came from him. He bolted upright, claws extended, wild-eyed and drenched in sweat, his whole body shook and his breath came in short gasps.

"Logan?" she called his name softly as she turned on the light. He wasn't all there and the haunted, wild look in his eyes, the pain etched on his face frightened her. She said his name again, trying to get through.

Just as quickly, he snapped out of it. "Oh God!" he moaned, realizing what just happened. He shook his head and got out of bed and she was right behind him, still afraid to get too close. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned on the sink, staring at the reflection in the mirror.

She gently touched his back. "You ok?"

He flinched. "Yeah, I'll live." Then he turned to face her, looking drained and haunted.

"Did I hurt you?" his voice was a raw whisper.

She held out her arms "No, Bright eyes. I'm fine." He went to her embrace and let himself be comforted. "You scared the daylights out of me." she added.

"I'm sorry." he murmured, burying his face into her hair. "I was afraid this was gonna happen." He abruptly pulled away from her. "I gotta go."

"Go? Where?"

"Back to the School, my old room. I might hurt you." He sounded desperate as he began to pull on his jeans.

"Please don't. You _didn't_ hurt me."

"That was just luck. You can't trust me when I get like this. I don't trust_ myself_."

"Logan, if we're going to be together, we _both_ have to deal with this. Running away is _not_ going to solve it."

"Just what in the hell _will_ solve it?" he asked, pulling on his boots. Frustration was written all over him.

"I don't know, but running _won't_."

"Well, until you gotta better solution, I'm gonna stick with my tried and true, babe. I gotta get some space." He pulled on a t-shirt and stalked out of their room, heading toward the garage while doing his best to transpose emotions of fear and frustration into anger and was doing a good job of it.

To stunned to respond, she followed then stood in the doorway, as he straddled his bike.

She forced her voice to sound firm "Look at me and tell me you _really_ want to leave."

He wouldn't look at her as he kicked the bike to start. It didn't catch and he cursed under his breath and tried the bike again; still wouldn't start.

She silently thanked God. If he was going to leave, it was going to be on foot and she surely wasn't going to lend him her car. "Logan, come back in, please. Nightmares are part of who you are. I love you,_ all_ of you."

Now he looked at her and saw the heartbreak on her beautiful face. He couldn't bear that look, not from her. His shoulders slumped as he sat on his Harley, the fire gone out of him. His dark brown eyes looked defeated, weary. "I'm so afraid of hurting you."

"Logan, I could step off a street corner tomorrow and get hit by a truck, too."

"Not the same thing."

"No, it's not. But, you don't go on the attack when you have a nightmare. That whole thing with Marie wasn't your fault."

"Sure as hell wasn't hers."

"I didn't say it was. It was an _accident_."

He dismounted the bike andwent back into the house. "You make things sound simple."

"I just try not to complicate things with more complications."

Logan looked at her kind of funny. "I know that makes sense, but... never mind." He pulled off his boots and stretched out on the couch.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Compromise."

"What?"

"I'm not running away and you're safe."

She snuggled close to him. "Ok, but make room, I'm not sleeping alone."

Theabsurdity of them both trying to get comfortable on the couch struck funny at the same time and they began to laugh. Laughing was followed by cuddles, cuddles led to some kisses. "Are you trying to make up?" she whispered, nibbling his earlobe.

"Nah. What have I got to make up for?"

She playfully slapped his chest. "I don't know, but I'll think of something."

"Well, while you're thinking, come closer and kiss me" and he tangled his hand in her hair and brought her lips to his.

Later, in the warm afterglow of their loving, she drowsily asked "Why do you always pick the middle of the night to have your meltdowns?"

"Cause I get to make up like this afterwards."

"That's a creative answer. Love you, Bright eyes."

"Love you, too." He heaved a contented sigh, held her tighter and drifted off, this time sleeping peacefully.

The next morning the sleepy couple met with Hank McCoy. When Logan remembered the topic of the meeting, sleepy gave way to pissed off and letting everybody know it.

It was mutually decided that the risk of trying to remove the chips was far too great. There was not a shred of evidence that removing them would actually restore Logan's memories and they weren't causing any discernable harm. Those reasons coupled with the fact that he was not going to submit to anything having to do with testing, searching for or removing the things, pretty much sealed the decision.

With fire in his eyes and venom in his tone he made his opinion on the subject crystal clear. Looking directly at Susan, he spoke with barely concealed anger, "I asked you the other night to let this go and I wasn't kidding. Nobody's going to experiment on me ever again." He stalked out, slammed the door and headed for the Danger Room needing to work off his anger before it got out of control. He was about a thread away from snapping and doing something he'd regret.

Let loose in the Danger Room, he did. Fail safes off, he tracked, evaded and fought every program in the system. He still felt on edge when he was through; holograms didn't give nearly the same satisfaction as actually pulverizing flesh and bone. What he wouldn't give for a cage fight right now but Westchester just wasn't the place. He wouldn't mind 'working' off the last of his edginess with Susan. _Yeah there's a good plan_. He went up to his rarely- used room, showered, found clean clothes and then searched for his woman.

Susan wisely chose to give Logan the rest of the day to himself. She was feeling equally stressed and her way of de-stressing was first a long ride on Rocky, her Arabian, and then an afternoon of shopping. She realized she pushed him too far with too much information all at once. His nightmare should have been a strong clue but she just wanted to help him. She had definitely let her feelings cloud her judgment and it was time to drop it. The next time anything about his past would be brought up would only be in response to him bringing it up first.

Her cell phone rang while she was perusing lingerie at Saks'. The caller ID showed his number. "Hey Bright eyes!"

"Where are ya?"

"In the city."

"What? Why?"

"I'm at Saks."

"What?"

"I'm shopping."

"Oh, ok. When are you coming home?"

"When do you want me?"

"Now." He really meant now because his got- to have- it- now instinct was threatening to go into overdrive.

"Oh. Well, it's going to take me a while to get back."

"How 'bout I meet you downtown for dinner?"

"Works for me. Where?"

"I got no clue. I don't do Manhattan."

"Do you know where Puck's Manhattan is?"

"No."

She gave him directions ignoring the irritation in his voice and closed the call. "Take it easy Bright eyes. I love you."

They arrived at the restaurant at the same time. It was a casual but upscale place and he felt out of place until he'd had a few beers, then he relaxed and could enjoy it. Trendy places were not his first choice, but if the food was good he could adjust. The bill was a bit much for his sensibilities, but what the hell, this was Manhattan and besides, his love recommended it. When they got back home, she'd read his mood, his need, and boy; did she cool his jets.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Susan cracked open an eye and peered at the alarm clock; 4:48 a.m., just a few more minutes before the alarm would buzz. She clickedit offand glanced over to the man sleeping beside her. In the semi-darkness she could tell he was sleeping on his side, back toward her. "Logan" she whispered but gotno response. From the sound of his breathing, if asleep, he wasn't sleeping deeply. "You awake?"

A muffled voice replied "No."

She smiled to herself and scooted over, closer to him and lightly ran her fingers up his backbone making him twitch. Then she pressed herself against his back, nuzzling his neck.

"What are you doin', woman?" he asked groggily.

"Trying to start your birthday off right" she cooed while nipping at his earlobe, neck and shoulder.

"Huh?" he rolled over onto his back and stretched his tall, muscular body. "Oh yeah. It _is_ my birthday." Before he could say another word, she took control and later when she was finished with him, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. "Wow." was all he could say.

"Happy birthday, lover." she purred.

"I'm going to work with a grin on my face today."

"That's the plan."

"What else do you have planned little schemer?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." she said with an evil giggle then glanced over at the clock. "Time to get going or we'll be late."

"So!"

"So? We have a staff meeting this morning, remember? Do you really want to listen to Scott hassle you about being late?"

"Scott can blow me."

"Excuse me, that's my job!" she laughed, threw on her robe and went to the kitchen for coffee.

He was surprised by her uncharacteristically blunt words, then pulled on some boxers and followed her. He was about to follow her outside as she got the newspaper from the driveway, but thought better of it. He wasn't going to flash the neighborhood in his underwear! Then they sat together at the kitchen table sipping coffee and reading the paper, like they did most weekdays, though more mornings like this one would have been just fine with him, but time didn't always allow for it.

They got to the staff meeting just in time. Just to be obnoxious, Logan stopped for more coffee, which made him saunter into Scott's office just a few minutes after it started. He knew it pissed Scott off and he'd hear about it. Susan cut him a dirty look but he just grinned and then mouthed a kiss to her.

The topic of the meeting was training new members of the X-Team. Recent high school grads, Marie, Jubilee, Bobby, Kyle and Remy were ready to actively prepare to join the team. It would be the first time that Xavier's School would train a group in this way. Scott, Jean and Ororo had trained quite differently. It was going to be more like an X-Team college. Scott would be instructing them in strategy and planning. Logan would be responsible for multi-disciplined combat and survival techniques. Kurt and Ororo, who were now a couple, would help them continue learn to control their powers and use them effectively. Susan's job was monitoring and documenting the trainee's health and conditioning and ability to control their powers. It was a challenge that she wasn't too sure she was up to, being there only part time. Charles, however, assured her that it would be fine and that Hank McCoy would finally be joining the staff as well.

"You're not phasing me out of a job?" she asked jokingly.

"Absolutely not." Charles reassured. "With the Mutant Registration Act becoming more of a possibility and the threat of violent backlash, I'm more determined than ever to expand the Team. I fear we will be tested severely in the not too distant future."

His words created a chill in the room. Everyone on the Team followed the world events related to mutant issues very closely. No one wanted to dwell on the possible horrors that the Registration Act could unleash. They all knew that severe damage had been done when Magneto had manipulated Cerebro to target humans at Alkali Lake. After that, it seemed worldwide support for some kind of mutant-identifying mechanism was growing. Logan summed it up as a powder keg just waiting for a detonator and nobody disagreed.

At the close of the meeting, the professor made an announcement. "It has been brought to my attention" he glanced at Susan "that today is someone's birthday." Then grinning from ear to ear, "On behalf of the Team; happy birthday, Logan."

Logan, resting his forehead against his thumb and index finger, slouched down in his seat. Being invisible would be a good thing right about now. _Please don't sing, _hethought

Charles sensed his thought. "No, we shall not sing" which actually caused Logan redden with embarrassment. _Damn those telepaths_!

As the meeting dismissed everyone wished him a happy birthday, shook his hand or slapped him on the back. Electra gave him a kiss and warned him of fifty four swats to the backside coming his way. Before he had a chance to register what she said, she planted a good one and swiftly exited the meeting.

The room emptied except for Susan. He tried to look menacing but she flashed him her most 'I'm- so- sweet- and- innocent' smile.

"Does the whole school know?" he asked

"Yep."

"The kids?"

"Absolutely."

_Oh fuck_, the thought then said "I'm in trouble."

She gave him a hug. "Hey, do you have any memory of _ever_ celebrating your birthday?"

"Not really."

"I thought not. I want to help you start to build good memories so that's why I let everybody know. Just enjoy it, honey. Believe it or not, there's a whole bunch of people who really care about you."

"As long as you promise me no sappy over the hill party or something like that".

"I swear Logan; I would_ never_ do something sappy._ Goofy_ maybe, but not sappy."

"Oh shit. I'm just going home now."

"Suit yourself" and she planted a kiss on his mouth and headed to her office.

Logan didn't go back home but he did try to keep a low profile for most of the day. When he got to his office, there was a vase of mixed- color roses and a balloon tied to the vase. He was annoyed and embarrassed that until he saw who they were from. _Susie sent me flowers! This is weird. No this is awesome. God, I love that woman._

Marie came by when he was working through a simulation in the Danger Room to ask him to lunch. They still maintained a special bond though since he'd had been with Susan, they hadn't been able to simply sit down and debate the world as often. He shared with her his intention to ask Susan to marry him and told her about the ring. She surprised him with maturity in insightfulness when she informed him she'd seen it coming all along and would have personally kicked his ass if he'd found a way to mess up.

Throughout the day, all of the kids managed to wish him happy birthday. Some of the older kids were appropriately obnoxious about it but he let himself enjoy it as best as he knew how. Electra definitely made it a point to cross paths with him as often as possible. She would try to swat him and he would dodge out of the way or let her get one in though kept warning her that paybacks were hell.

Late in the afternoon, Scott stopped by his office. Logan tensed up expecting to be chewed out about being late for the morning staff meeting. Instead, the conversation that took place was something that neither would have thought possible.

Scott began, "You know, Logan, there was a time when I thought you were the most arrogant, useless, irresponsible mutant I'd ever come across."

"Yeah, well you're pretty special too, One Eye." Logan shot back.

Scott ignored his sarcasm. "You've changed. You've done good." Then he choked up "When Jeannie died and you told me she chose me, you didn't have to... and then, you stuck around here,... bonded with the kids... Logan, I'm saying I respect you and what you've done."

Logan heard the words, but didn't know how to process them or respond.

Extremely uncomfortable, Logan's eyes darted everywhere, except making contact with Scott's visor. "Scott….. shut up!" As Scott's words sank in he forced himself to relax, listen to what was being said. "Thanks." He didn't know what else to say.

Scott stuck out his right hand. "So, Happy Birthday."

He stared at Scott for a long moment and finally, slowly shook his hand in return. Having no clue what was appropriate to say, he settled for, "Hey, Cyclops wanna go for a beer?"

Scott smirked, "Always the Wolverine, huh?"

Logan grinned "Got a reputation to maintain, ya know?"

"I know... and yeah, I'll take you up on that beer."

Just as they were about to leave, Logan's phone rang. He was going to let the machine get it, but picked up the receiver on the last ring. It was Christophe telling him that the ring was finished and he could pick it up. "Thanks. How late are you open?...'til seven. Will you take a check for the balance?"

Since Logan had acquired a copy of his birth certificate, he'd got a drivers' license, opened a bank account and all the other trappings of the establishment. The day his AARP card arrived caused him a minor crisis! He ranted to Susan for most of the evening about it, declaring he was_ not_ a retired person and her false sympathy and comment about getting cheap life insurance didn't help much, either.

"Scott, do you mind driving into SoHo for that beer?"

"It's kind of a long way, but no problem."

"Appreciate it, man. I gotta take care of this tonight"

They drove into the city in Scott's Mazda, mostly because it was one of those hot and humid as hell New York summer evenings and the air conditioning was a requirement.

They found a parking spot just in front of C&M Creations. Logan motioned for Scott to wait and dashed in, returning about fifteen minutes later.

Scott was left to speculate about what Logan was doing in a funky, high-end jewelry store. The obvious crossed his mind but he dismissed it. Then thinking on it more, it occurred to him that Logan had practically given up his room at the mansion and if someone needed to track him down all you had to do was call Susan's house. He'd been uncharacteristically pleasant, if you could use that term to describe Logan, for several months. His suspicions were nearly confirmed when Logan emerged from the jeweler carrying a gift bag was just the right size for a ring box.

Logan was characteristically stoic and settling into the passenger seat, indicated readiness for beer. They drove a few blocks and found a bar that was not too seedy for Scott but not too upscale for Logan. After they had swilled down the first and were working on the second, Scott worked up the courage to ask a very pointed question. "So, when are you going to ask her?"

Logan took a deep chug of his beer before answering. "No secrets, eh? Wanna see it?" He'd brought the package in to the bar, not trusting the safety of parking on New York City streets.

Scott nearly choked on his beer "Geez Logan, that's really impressive." He'd just begun to shop for engagement rings right before Jeans death and knew what was out there and what it cost.

"I'm planning on doing the deed tomorrow night." Logan answered "and I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

Scott nodded and didn't divulge the party already planned and mentally laughed at the possible complications of conflicting plans.

The next morning Logan roared his motorcycle up the drive and pulled into the garage at Xavier's School for the Gifted. He'd overslept was late because he'd stayed up the previous night playing the twelve-string guitar that Susan had given him for his birthday. Then, of course, he had to properly and thoroughly express his appreciation for her gift. He'd heard the alarm clock buzz and told himself he'd snooze just for a few minutes more. He sort of remembered her yanking on his foot sticking out of the sheets but the next thing he knew the late morning sun was zapping him in the face. "Shit" he exclaimed and jumped out of bed. Grabbing a fast shower, he was out the door in ten minutes.

He glanced at the date-temperature sign as he drove by a bank on the way. The sign flashed 8-13. _That figures_ he thought. _Friday the 13th_. Heading toward his office at a fast pace, He became aware of Charles voice in his mind._ **Logan, please come to my** **office.**_He scowled and wondered what was wrong. Surely he wasn't going to be read the riot act for being late?

The reality of it was that Charles had concocted a plan to get him away from the school for the day so that the surprise party could be set up.He'd been searching for some remote property to set up a specialized training camp for the Team. After the incident in Kentucky with the moon shiners, he thought it a prudent thing to do. He'd found a tract of land for sale up in the tri-state area of New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts. Advertised as heavily wooded, remote and rugged, it seemed perfect.Since Logan was going to head up survival training for new Team members, Charles decided that today would be perfect day for them to fly to a small town called Falls Village drive up to Bradford Mountain where the property was and check its suitability.

It sounded like an interesting little jaunt to Logan, except for the flying part. He didn't like flying and couldn't fathom why not. Maybe the fact that it made him queasy had something to do with it or maybe something happened in the past involving flying; just one of those lost memories.

Vic Marquez had the done the pre-flight preparations and was ready to go. Charles took his position, a specially designed spot that enabled his wheelchair to be clamped to the decking and Logan strapped in behind Vic. The basketball court slid aside, Vic lit off the engines and the plane gracefully lifted from its hangar. The flight, if taken directly to Falls Village, was not long and needing to kill several hours, Vic turned it into a little training flight. Finally at altitude, he turned to Logan and told him to take the co-pilot seat.

Logan looked shocked. "Say what?"

"Get up here. I want you to be able to co-pilot this thing. You might _have to_ some day."

"You're nuts, man. I do_ not_ fly."

"Don't freak! It's mostly computerized, kinda like a video game."

"There's a comfort." Logan growled. Unstrapping himself and moving into the co-pilot seat he muttered "This is a stupid idea."

Vic put the plane into auto pilot and began to familiarize Logan with the gauges and indicators and switches. He showed him where the cheat- sheets, detailed checklists of procedures to follow for nearly every eventuality of flying, were kept. "Kind of like Flying for Dummies" he teased.

Logan flipped him a rude gesture.

Charles, who was reading through paperwork couldn't help but smile as they bantered back and forth. Actually Logan found the whole thing interesting and soon was asking questions and began to get a basic understanding. Vic explained the difference between Visual Flight Rules and Instrument Flight Rules and Logan commented that his acute vision probably would come in handy for VFR flying.

"Mostly for low-levels." Vic replied. "Take a look at the charts and then outside and tell me where we are at 35,000 feet."

"I see your point. That's why there's GPS."

"Close." Vic agreed. "But in aviation it's TACANS"

Logan nodded.

"I'll have you piloting before long." Vic said to his team mate.

Logan shook his head. "I don't think so."

"It's not as hard as it looks; besides, it's a hell of a rush."

Logan chuckled at Vic's enthusiasm. "I'll get my rushes on the ground, thanks"

"Wuss!"

Vic took the plane out of auto pilot. They were in a fairly remote airspace near the Canadian border and he wanted to practice some low level flying. He radioed for clearances and then brought the plane down steeply to fly at 500 feet.

"Damn, don't do that." The color drained from Logan's face as struggled to swallow breakfast back when the jet dumped altitude so quickly.

"Barf bags are in the seat pockets." Vic mentioned and Logan shot him an I'm- gonna- kill- ya look. He continued, "Ok, here's the setting. Keep an eye on the altimeter and take the stick."

"No way, man."

"Do it." Vic ordered

"Jesus Christ" Logan muttered and nervously did as commanded.

"Slow and easy" Vic coached. "Pull up gentle. Check the altimeter. Five hundred's the hard deck. Bueno!."

Logan was sweating. He wasn't scared but was just concentrating harder than he could remember concentrating in a long time. And, yeah, it was a rush! Actively doing the work of flying made him forget about his stomach.

"All right. Now I want you to turn this baby. Take her up to a thousand feet" Vic wanted to give Logan some breathing space in case he banked too hard. Pointing to the compass he gave a heading and cautioned "Don't forget to scan your altitude and gyro."

Logan nodded and began to turn the jet. He banked too hard and Charles' papers went flying. "Whoa! Sorry." Perspiration ran down his forehead, sweat stained his shirt and he remembered his stomach.

"It's ok. You've got plenty of time and space. Slow and gentle." Vic coached. For a first-timer Logan wasn't bad though he was prepared to seize control in an instant. "Remember this amigo" he advised "flying is like making love. You treat the lady gently, it's all good; you treat her rough, she's gonna kick back."

Logan grinned knowingly.

"Excellent analogy, Victor." Charles interjected. He'd been very quiet observing Logan under this new stressor. It had been his idea to have Vic do this. Charles' instinct told him that Logan was very capable of more than he let on or remembered and he just needed the right circumstances to jog his memories. Logan had the makings of a pilot, a very good one. Perhaps he had been one and didn't recall.

"Logan, I'm gonna take it from here. We're getting close to the airstrip near Falls Village." Vic advised.

Logan was relieved to turn it over. He'd been concentrating hard and every muscle in his neck and shoulders felt like one huge knot, giving him a headache.

"Pay attention to what I'm doing." As he took control and readied the plane for it's landing, he talked through the entire process. Vic set the jet down as if it were a feather. "I could teach you to do it, ya know?"

"You make it look too easy, man."

"It is. Just a little practice."

"Yeah. Just a little practice." Logan echoed as he moved his head from side to side and rotated his shoulders, trying to relieve the muscle tension.

They disembarked the plane and were met by the real estate agent that Charles had been working with. They all piled into an SUV and headed toward Bradford Mountain.

Meanwhile, back at the school preparations for the party were progressing semi-smoothly. Marie, Jubilee and Kitty had volunteered to bake and decorate the birthday cake. The only problem being was none of them could quite agree on the decorations. It had been a no- brainer about what kind of cake with Marie, having Logan's likes and dislikes etched into her mind. Chocolate was the only option. Kitty and Jubilee wanted to put decorations on it symbolizing significant things but their ideas struck Marie as _just plain stupid_, as Logan would have so eloquently put it.

"Just put 'Happy Birthday, Logan' on it." she admonished.

"That's _so _boring." Kitty pouted.

"It's a waste of my talent." Jubilee complained haughtily.

"Get over yourself, Jubes." Marie cautioned.

"How many candles?" Jubilee questioned.

"Fifty four." Marie said

"Oh my Gawd." Kitty gushed. "The cake'll burn."

"I'm gonna start calling him Grandpa." Jubilee giggled.

"Yeah, and you better be prepared to run like crazy if you do." Kitty warned

"Ladies, shut up and let's finish the cake." Marie said in her most authoritarian tone.

Mrs. Burns and her kitchen crew, who Susan was paying a handsome bonus to, were busy putting together a Texas- style bar-be-que. Brisket and short ribs, beans, potato salad, and cole slaw made up the lions share of fixins. Susan had made up a gallon of her own special pico de gallo to be served with tortilla chips. Watermelon, one spiked with tequila the other plain was on the menu.

A Margarita machine had been rented and Electra was mixing up a potent batch. She had also dragged out her ice cream maker and mixed up a batch of cinnamon ice cream something she doubted Logan had ever tried, but bet he'd like it. Kurt, Ororo and Scott had been assigned beverage procurement for adults and kids.

Susan came to lend a hand as soon as her rounds at the hospital were through. She had been scheduled for the evening shift too, but traded with her close friend, Dr. Paula Wellborn, and kept Logan in the dark about the change in schedule.

Back in the tri-state area, Charles stayed behind with the Realtor while Logan and Vic toured the site. They drove around as much as they could until the dirt roads became to rough. Continuing on foot, they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. It seemed nearly perfect for a training camp. They located the river that ran through the property and the fast running water they could tell that rapids and maybe some falls existed downstream.

Suitable cliffs and overlooks were perfect for climbing and repelling and Logan located caves that warranted further exploration when he was better equipped and had more time.

Outbuildings consisted of a cabin and what appeared to be a work shed but there was no electricity or city style plumbing. The biggest flaw that anyone could envision was the lack of enough open space to bring the jet in. That could be an issue if the need to evacuate quickly ever arose.

On the return flight, the three of them hashed over the details and the consensus was this seemed the best option at the moment, but that perhaps more time and reflection were required, as Charles eloquently expressed it.

After flying for a while, Charles dropped a suggestion. "Logan, I think you would be very suited to designing the layout for the camp and developing the curriculum."

Logan glanced at him with skepticism.

"Your instincts and your background make you the perfect choice."

Logan didn't respond for a long moment. He was flattered despite the self-doubt he felt. After mulling it over, certain Charles knew, he finally responded, "That's puttin a lot on my plate "

"Yes, it is. However, I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe you were capable."

"What's your timeline for the camp?" He needed to mentally calculate how many directions he was going to be pulled.

"Realistically, I'd like to have it set up by spring."

He was poker-faced and silent as he continued contemplating Charles' request.

"Logan," Charles continued, trying to reassure, "I've allotted a substantial budget to allow you maximum flexibility."

"I'll give it my best shot." Logan finally answered. Then he lost himself in thoughts. _Geez, I'm getting married, I'm going for my degree, I'm coaching_, he mentally ticked off the goals he'd set for himself_ ... I wanted a life; well, I'm getting it and then some._ He didn't mean for it to happen, but his thoughts broadcast themselves to Charles' mind.

"Your points are well taken. Next week I think renegotiating your contract and a raise is in order." he spoke to Logan's mind. "When's the wedding?"

Logan jerked his head in surprise, embarrassed by his thoughts being known. Speaking aloud, "I haven't asked her yet. Charles, will ya get outta my head?"

Charles nodded and smiled.

They landed back at the school around five in the afternoon. Charles left and Logan and Vic secured the jet. Vic purposely took his time to give Charles the opportunity to make sure party preparations were on schedule. When Vic got the telepathic OK, he said to his friend. "Let's get a beer, amigo. I want to debrief your first flight lesson properly, si?"

"Works for me." Logan answered enthusiastically.

Upon exiting the elevator into the main hallway of the mansion, they immediately smelled the tantalizing barbeque and it occurred to them they hadn't eaten since that morning. Sniffing the air in the obnoxious predatory style that drove his girlfriend crazy, Logan declared, "Damn! That smells good. Mrs. Burns really outdid herself."

Vic nodded in agreement. "Let's check it out." They headed toward the source of the aroma at a quick pace both of their stomach's growling.

Susan had admonished everyone not to make a big deal when they arrived. She wanted Logan to think it was just a school function and then have it slowly dawn on him what the deal was. The only kids on campus were Marie, Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, Kyle, Remy and Piotr. Susan's son, Matthew was there, too and they all hung out by the pool, trying to look oh –so- cool and uninterested. Scott, Ororo and Kurt were sitting around a table just beginning to unwind from the day while Electra and Charles were conversing near the Margarita machine, frosty glasses already in hand. When Electra saw her husband and Logan, she waved and motioned them over.

Susan spotted Logan walking toward the patio and intercepted him with an ice cold beer and a kiss. "How'd it go?" she asked playfully.

"Hey." he said returning her kiss. "Pretty good. Got a lot to discuss with ya later." Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on tonight."

"Paula needed me to trade with her." she fibbed.

He shrugged then made his way over to a table laden with food. "What's the occasion?" he asked stuffing chips and salsa into his mouth. He was so famished, he paid no attention to the burning sensation his nose warned him of.

"Careful, sweety. That's the four-alarm batch" she warned, referring to the salsa and dodging his question.

The fire took a minute to register on his tongue. "Damn!" His eyes began to water so he belted back the rest of his beer. Before he could ask her again, Marie, Jubilee and Kitty made a noisy entrance carrying the cake. The jig was up. Logan knew exactly what the occasion was. He just looked at the teenage girls, who were giggling so much they almost dropped the cake and then he looked at Susan and tried looked menacing then broke into a huge grin. "You couldn't resist, could ya?" he said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She flashed an ornery-sweet smile, "No way." Then raising her wine glass, "Listen up everybody; a toast to the birthday boy, the first of many more to come." Glasses were raised in honor, the kids hooted and applauded.

For all Susan's planning and efforts, the party turned out perfectly. It was obvious that Logan was really enjoying himself. After the feast had been consumed, someone challenged a volleyball game - teachers vs. students. Since the teachers had by now consumed a significant amount of adult beverages, the kids won the first match but teachers won the rematch.

Marie grabbed him by the arm and led him over to a table "Logan, come on. It's time for your birthday cake." Everyone gathered around and Susan made her way through taking his other arm. Fifty-four candles made a bright glow that went a long way to hide his blush when they all sang Happy Birthday to him. He managed to blow out all the candles before being regaled with kisses from Marie, Jubilee and Kitty. Electra snuck up behind and swatted him on the rump.

"That's forty two." she squealed and trotted away.

He chased after her. "Wrong. It's forty four." Then he grabbed her around the waist, swung her around and gave her a playful kiss. "Just wait 'til your birthday, woman." He led her not-to-gently by the arm and deposited her by Vic. "Your wife needs a spankin'" he said with a mildly leering wink. Vic laughed loudly.

Before the party wound down, Logan wanted to express thanks. He stood up, and cleared his throat, "I'm not real good at this... but, um... you guys are really great. This is... the best. Thanks." He raised his beer bottle in salute and then took a deep chug.

Before too long, the teenagers filtered out, becoming bored. They'd spent about as much time as they could handle around adults. Charles bid the guest of honor farewell and wheeled back inside keeping an adult presence near the teenagers.

That left the X-Team the opportunity to sit around and seriously party. About ten pm or so, everyone had pretty much partied themselves out. Vic and Electra were the last hold-outs and the conversation got around to Logan flying the jet. He admitted to Vic that the experience had been awesome and that he might like to learn to fly. Finally, Electra pulled Vic along back to their cottage, leaving Logan and Susan sitting peacefully on the patio.

She snuggled in closer to him on the wicker couch. "Did you like it?" she asked, referring to the party.

"Yeah, I really did. You surprised me."

"I was afraid you were going to figure it out or sense it or something." Then she tried to stifle a yawn. "Hey, what was it you were going to tell me about earlier tonight?"

He thought for a second. "Oh yeah! Charles wants me to be in charge a new training camp."

Susan smiled at him proudly. "Seriously? That's fantastic."

"Yeah, it is." After moment, he stretched his arms over his head then draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. They sat in silence relaxing in each other's care. _Now's the time,_ he thought. _It's wasn't how he'd planned it, but what the hell_. Up until the last three weeks or so, he hadn't really planned anything in his life. He buried his face in her hair breathing in her scent. "Have I told ya how much I loved ya lately?"

She cuddled closer. "Yeah but tell me again."

"Nah." he said and paused, letting a look of puzzlement settle on her face. "I'd rather show ya." and stealthily reached into his jeans pocket and pulled a small pouch. "I had other plans for us tonight. I was going to meet ya during your break and... well anyway."

Logan willed himself to always remember how she looked at this moment. Her blond hair falling in soft waves on her shoulders appeared golden in the torch lights. Her eyes shone bright and warm and her inviting lips curved into a shy smile. She wore jeans and a white blouse that seemed both elegant and earthy at the same time. To him, Susan was womanhood perfected. He pulled the ring from its pouch and held it up so that they could both see it clearly in the torchlight.

She gasped with surprise. "Oh, Logan..."

Reaching for her left hand, his own shaking, he slid the ring into place. "Susan, will you..."

Before he could finish she excitedly gasped "Yes, oh yes."

"... will you hush and let me say this?" he gently scolded but his face glowed with love

She nodded, her blue eyes brimming with tears of joy, locked onto his deep brown eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

She'd already answered him and reinforced her answer with a tender kiss on his lips and breathed "yes" once again.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you." was all he could think to say as he kissed her deeply.

Susan pulled away for a moment to admire his offering. "This is beautiful. The black stone...?"

"Onyx."

"The one that Elizabeth gave you?"

"The very one... Do you like it, Sue?"

"I love it- just like I love you."

Between their kisses, the both sighed 'I love you' at the same moment. Then they both felt a strong urge to head on home. Reality interrupted when they remembered Matthew.

They glowed as they strolled hand in hand inside to gather the boy up and return home.

Susan told her son the news on the trip home. Matthew's reaction was wholly positive. "Mom, Logan, this is like tres cool." He tried to sound so teenaged -cool and detached. "I guess that means that you're gonna be my step-dad, huh?" Matt reached forward to give Logan's shoulder a playful punch. "That's definitely cool."

"I'm so glad you're happy about this, Matt." Susan was turned in the seat to look at him.

The step-dad thing hadn't even crossed Logan's mind. His hands gripped the steering wheel, unsure of what response was right. Susan reached over and gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. Her gesture was just what he needed. He gathered his thoughts. "Uh, thanks, Matt; hope I can live up to it." _Now, if only Travis doesn't go ballistic over this, everything will be cool _hethought, remembering the night thatthey'd had their little 'issue'. They'd called a truce, but Logan never quite felt like everything was totally resolved because Travis headed off to West Point before they could talk again.

"Mom, are you guys going to have a big wedding and all that stuff?"

Susan thought for a moment. "We haven't even thought about it yet, kiddo." A look of sadness passed over her face. "Actually son, it's probably going to be low-key. With the Mutant Registration Act we can't be legally married."

"That's really sucks." Matthew added quietly. "So what'll you do?"

"We're gonna do exactly what we want." Logan added his two cents worth, his voice suddenly bristling with anger. "No stupid law's getting in the way."

"Logan's right. Laws can be passed to make things difficult, but no one can legislate enforceable laws keeping committed people apart." She gave Logan's knee another reassuring squeeze.

Logan glanced over at her, the anger on his face being replaced by a sad smile as he contemplated the Mutant Registration Act. _It had been a boiling, contentious issue and_ _sometimes it felt like the whole world was holding its breath waiting for the explosion. He knew that sometime down the road, he was going to be in right in the middle of it. Logan truly hope that Magneto was wrong when he prophesized that the war was coming. No one, not Normals or Mutants, would to win. As hideous as it sounded, he thought he'd almost prefer the threat of nuclear war to an all out genocidal holocaust that a war between Mutants and Normals would result in_. "The Magneto's of the world make Hitler or Stalin look like amateurs" he muttered.

"What, hon?"

He shook his head. "Nothin. Don't worry about it." he didn't really want to go there; not tonight.

Logan pulled the Jaguar into the garage. Matt bid his Mom and Logan goodnight. Standing on the stair landing, he called out "Hey Logan, do ya want me to call ya Dad?"

The questioned threw Logan. "Hey man, you can call me whatever you want but you might want to give it some thought. How about your real dad? How's he gonna feel?"

"Like he cares." Matthew said not quietly enough.

"Matthew!" Susan exclaimed.

"Sorry, Mom. But, it's like, Dad and the witch are always trying to find ways to send me off somewhere."

"Matt, don't refer to Christine as the witch." She admonished but had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at Matt's description of his step-mother. However, she'd replace the "w" with a "b". "Do you want to talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Mom, could I move in with you and Logan?"

"Yeah, you sure can, son."

Feeling reassured that his 'anchor' was not going to be pulled away by Logan, the boy smiled and bounded up the stairs to his room. Susan called after him, "Lights out, boy. I love you."

He hollered back, "Yes ma'am. Love ya too, Mom...Logan."

Susan retreated to bedroom, washed off her makeup and readied for bed as Logan closed the window blinds and secured the alarm system. He reflected on the conversation that just passed. He hadn't considered Matthew's reaction and was surprised and touched byhis easy acceptance though thoroughly intimidated at the concept of becoming an instant step-parent.

He reflected over the entire day as he showered. What a great day it had been. He'd received an undeniable affirmation of who his true friends and loved ones were. He'd been offered a 'dream job' by Charles and succeeded in convincing that gorgeous woman lying in the king sized bed into marrying him. He let out a whoop of pure elation.

Startled, she called out, "Are you ok?"

"Absolutely perfect." he replied stepping out of the shower, drying off and wrapping the towel around his waist.

"Ok, then Mr. Perfect, get over here and let me love on you." and held her arms out in invitation.

Later as he held her, still enjoying the afterglow of lovemaking, he murmured, "Hey, I've got a stupid question."

"What, Bright eyes?"

"When's your birthday?"

Susan didn't answer for a moment. "It's already past for this year."

"When was it then?"

"April."

"Ok. April what?"

She shifted her body and rested on her elbows on his chest. "Promise you won't tease me."

"Huh? I just asked ya when your birthday was. What's the big deal?"

"Just promise."

"Ok."

"April first."

It took a second before he made the connection. A grin spread across his face and he couldn't help chuckling.

She gave him a playful slap. "You promised."

"Ow! Ok, ok." He chuckled again and muttered something about April Fools Day which earned him a pillow shoved in his face.

He in turn pushed the pillow away and gently pinned her to the mattress and kissed her.

"Where was I last April first?" he asked a bit puzzled. "We were together then."

"Easter Break. I took the boys to Colorado to ski. Remember?" Their relationship had been still very new at that point and she didn't know where they were headed. He may have felt they were 'together' then, but she hadn't; not a hundred percent anyway.

He thought about it for a minute. "Oh yeah. Ya still could've told me."

"Hind sight's always twenty-twenty. Now hush and let's get some sleep." She wriggled out from under his weight and snuggled into the covers. She stifled a yawn, "Love you."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Over breakfast the following morning, Susan asked "What's on your schedule October second?"

"How should I know? What day is it?" he asked

"A Saturday."

"I don't know. Probably chores around here….the usual stuff."

"Do you think you could take some time and get married?"

"Geez, I don't know" he said with a silly grin "I might be too busy."

"Well, I could probably be convinced to lessen your chores around here" she joked in return.

"What made ya pick that date?"

"It gives us time to plan."

He looked puzzled and lost, having no clue what was involved in putting together a wedding. She didn't need to be a mind-reader to pick that up.

"How involved in the nuts and bolts of this do you want to be, love?" she asked seriously.

"Never thought about it. What's involved?"

She ran down a litany of details that made his expression glaze over. She guessed from his decreasing attention, all he needed was the basics and he'd be perfectly happy to have her plan an implement everything. "….writing your vows is the only thing you really need to focus on."

That caught his attention. "Write vows?"

"Unless you want to go religious."

"Ummm, I'm not comfortable with that."

"I guessed as much. That's why I think composing our own would be best. It doesn't have to be complicated."

He zoned out lost in contemplating what she'd suggested. "Yeah, I think I can do it.

By the end of that week, Susan had a good sense of everything that she wanted though getting Logan's opinion on anything had been next to impossible. His pat answer was 'what ever you want's fine with me'. After about the fifth time hearing that she decided to believe him.

Only when he saw the size of the guest list did he express his opinion. "One hundred and fifty people!" he sputtered. "Susan, I don't know that many people. This is nuts! I just want to _marry_ you, not_ party_ with all of Westchester County. How much is all of this going to cost?..." He continued ranting for a few minutes.

"But Bright eyes, I've got lots of family and friends and colleagues. Believe me, this is a severely paired down list."

"Look, I know I've said all along_ anything_ you want but can you pair it down more? How about just family? Please." His tone was somewhere between an order and a plea.

Then came reception plans. Dinner and dancing to which he declared dancing was OUT! A formal dinner was the most he thought he could handle, but a small cocktail reception was more his style. They finally settled on a guest list of family and close friends which basically meant everybody at school; her son's, of course, some of Susan's Texas relatives, the couples from their Friday Night group and his mother and sister. The last two guests elicited a less than positive reaction from him.

"That's your mother and sister. You_ have_ to invite them."

"Like they'll actually come!"

"They may! You'll never know unless you ask. Besides you'd eventually regret it if you didn't."

He knew she was probably right. He didn't have anything against them being there but it didn't occur to him to include them. He'd pretty much put them on the far back burner of his mind.

Addressing invitations was a task she planned on assigning to him and to her great irritation; he found a way out of it. The evening that she'd asked him to do it, Vic Marquez from Xavier's School called with an irresistible offer. It was about eight thirty in the evening and they'd been addressing envelopes for long enough that his patience was wearing thin. Suddenly thephone rang and he sprinted for it.

"Hello...Hey Vic...No, I'm not busy. What's up?...Oh yeah? You bet...I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He strolled away from where Susan was working and whispered into the phone. "Hey man, you saved my ass. Susan's got me writing out wedding invites." Vic made a rude comment that made him laugh. "See ya in a few minutes."

"Have a good time. Be careful." Susan said before he had a chance to say anything to her.

"You're not going to ask me what's up?"

"Well, it has something to do with Vic. It's pretty obviously not a mission so I probably don't want to know."

Logan looked perplexed. He expected she'd give him some mild grief over skipping out. "Ok then." he started to leave. Feeling guilty, he added "We're going flying. I'm not sure when I'll be home."

"Ok, sweetie. Be safe." she answered and continued addressing envelopes. In a sing-song voice she called to him "Oh Logan..."

"What?"

She held out an envelope. "Take this to Vic."

"No problem" he said and started to leave again.

"Logan."

"What now?"

She blew him a kiss. "Love you Bright eyes."

He winked. "Same here, Babe. See ya."

Logan had gotten a slot at a local flight school and had been working on the ground school portion for a week or two on the internet and had Saturday morning flight sessions with an instructor. Vic, being just a bit ornery and mildly sadistic, wanted to put Logan through some paces and night flying was the perfect opportunity to see just how much of a natural pilot he might be.

Vic knew just exactly what he wanted to do; take Logan out over open water with no lights on the ground for orientation thus forcing him to rely on instruments. Vic was also obnoxious enough to want to induct Logan into the bag club. Basically you weren't a real seasoned pilot until you'd been forced to toss your cookies at least once in flight. Vic figured it'd be fairly easy because for all of Logan's healing powers and strengths, he had a really touchy stomach.

Vic had him pre-flight the jet but not quite trusting of his skills, Vic executed the take off and ascent to altitude. Once they reached fifteen thousand feet Vic turned things over and gave him a heading that sent them over the Atlantic. It was only a few minutes before the lights of New York disappeared leaving nothing but black ocean below.

Vic was right. Logan's touchy sense of balance and delicate stomach started to bother him even though he loathed admitting it. He concentrated on the attitude gyro like his life depended on it; well, at least his ego depended on it.

Vic understood what he was going through having been there himself, but finally his devilish side won out and he gave Logan some bearings that would bank the jet fairly steeply. Vic watched his teammate and friend turn gray-white through the maneuver. "Barf bags are in the seat pocket." he advised.

"Up yours, man." Logan hissed, trying to sound in control. He executed another maneuver and then a correction. The correction was too sharp and finished it for his control. Vic took over as he promptly tossed supper into the designated receptacle.

Vic tried to stifle a laugh. "We all do it, amigo."

"Whatever." Logan gagged and panted, trying to pull himself together. He was sweating buckets and really wanted to be on solid ground.

"Ok amigo, picture this; we're on a mission, Stormy and I are out of commission. You're it; you've got to get us out. Take this bird and fly back home."

"Son of a bitch! There's a shit-load of difference between training planes and this thing."

"Don't think about it. Just take us home."

"My stomach still feels like its right here." Logan held two fingers right below his lips.

"Too bad! Sometimes ya gotta barf and fly. Do it."

Fueled by adrenalin and sharply disciplining himself, he made it back to Westchester but was pissed when Vic took the controls and set the jet in the landing bay. When they finally shut down and secured things, Logan's adrenalin rush was spent and he didn't even make it out of the hangar before he finished bringing up the rest of supper in a nearby trashcan.

"What do ya do to get over this?" Logan croaked in desperation.

"Keep flying dude. It goes away, I swear."

Vic headed home and had a good laugh with Electra when he shared with her what he'd done to Logan. Electra admonished him sternly and then laughed just as much.

Logan headed home feeling a combination of pumped up from flying and worn out from being airsick. He slid into bed and was grateful that Susan didn't awaken. There was no way in hell that he'd ever admit to getting sick.

Later the next morning, Susan got back from the grocery store when he'd pulled up behind her in the drive just coming from his flight lesson. He helped her haul the grocery bags inside. Off-handedly as she put things in the fridge, she commented, "I hear you joined the bagger club." She had a slightly wicked grin on her face that he couldn't see.

He paused in his tracks trying to decide just how to respond and decided to pretend he didn't hear. Of course, she knew better, he never missed anything. She turned toward him with an inquisitive look on her face.

Feigning ignorance he replied "What?"

"I asked you a question."

"No you didn't." He wasn't going to give an inch

"I certainly did! I said I heard you joined..."

He cut her off. "That wasn't a question."

"Don't be so technical" She laughed and tossed an apple at him.

He caught it, took a bite and went to the car for more groceries.

"Come on, Logan! Are you going to tell me about it?" She teased and followed him to the car.

"No."

She pretended to pout. "Oh, fine then."

"Well, fine!" he snipped back and then added. "What do I need to tell you anything for, you know all about it."

She snickered.

He guessed where she'd got her information. "I know one busy-body broad that I'm going to have a little conversation with." He sounded mad, but the look on his face was more amused than angry.

"You do that, Bright eyes." She egged him on. "But don't piss her off or she'll zap you."

"No shit!" he agreed.

When they finished putting the groceries away, he swallowed his pride and told her about it.

"Poor Baby!" She really was sympathetic.

He shot her sour look. " Poor Baby? That's all you can say?" If he was going to hang his ego out there, he was definitely looking for a_ lot_ more sympathy.

She couldn't help laughing. "Oh for heaven's sake, Logan." "What do want? A cookie!"

The absurdity of the whole thing suddenly struck him. Deciding to play along, he changed his demeanor and stared at her with this sad, pitiful, woe- is- me look. "Yeah, and can I have icing on it?" he asked meekly.

"Awww." she said and gave him a hug. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

They both cracked up laughing.

"Raspberry." he said between the laughter

"Raspberry? I'll give you raspberries." She giggled, stuck out her tongue and blew 'raspberries' at him.

"Oh yeah." he said with an ornery grin. "I'll show you raspberries, girl." He grabbed her around the waist and blew raspberries on the back of her neck.

She let out a shriek. "That tickles!" and struggled to get away. Then he turned her around to face him and planted a smooch on her mouth.

Just about that time, Matt came sauntering in from skateboarding, catching them in mid-smooch. "Oh gross! I am scarred for life; my own Mom making out in the kitchen. What's the planet coming too? Take it elsewhere, kiddies."

"Hey boy, we got a license." Logan shot back.

"Not yet." Matt answered

"Ok. A learner's permit, then." Logan corrected.

"Yeah right, and now when I'm doing driver's-ed, I'm going start thinking about..."

"Ok, gentlemen." Susan interrupted. "This conversation is fixin to get out of control."

She redirected her men's energies with a list of chores that needed to be done. Both 'boys' grumbled but got busy. It didn't pay to make the 'boss' irritated on a Saturday.** _TO BE CONTINUED, OF COURSE._**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The usual.**

**Authors Notes:This segment marks approximately half way through what I've written over the past year and a half. I'm grateful and still enjoy all the comments and believe it or not, it does help.I did indulge in some sappy expositional writing in this chapter. Don't hammer me too much. Enjoy.**

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was two a.m. and Susan's pager phone beeped for what seemed like the millionth time. She was on-call and it was a _full-moon_, or at least it seemed like that because the crazies were making her crazy with call after call of stupid stuff. Both she and Logan groaned simultaneously at yet another interruption to their slumber. She slid out of bed to take the call in another room. Then returning to bed a few minutes later, fussed and fumed "You have to wonder how stupid people can be."

"What" he questioned groggily?

"Nothing. Sorry to bother you, hon." _I should charge a double fee for stupid after hour calls,_ she muttered.

Awake and bothered by her muttering, he sat up. "Is there a problem?"

She parroted the call she just took in a whiney, falsetto voice: **My baby, he's got a fever. It's 99.2. He won't sleep. **Switching back to her voice "_Mrs. so-and-so,_

_99.2 really isn't a fever. Does he have any other symptoms?"_** Oh no, not really. You told me he was teething this afternoon. Do you think that's why he won't sleep?**

He was mildly amused by her monolog.

She continued_: "I think teething is a safe bet as to why Timmy isn't sleeping. Give him half a teaspoon of Motrin. If you feel you need to, call the clinic in the morning and we'll check him out_." **Oh, thank you Dr. Harris. What would I do without you?**

"Grrrr! 99.2 isn't even a fever. I told this chick everything this morning during her appointment. Now, you see why I get just a little pissy?"

"Umm, sure, Sue" he answered but didn't quite understand her frustration. "Go back to sleep babe." They both settled back. After a few minutes he asked quietly. "You asleep?"

She whispered "No" then felt a warm, soft hand smooth over her back. "What'cha doin?"

"Anything I can get away with."

She moved closer to him. "You know it's two thirty in the morning?"

"So? We're on vacation, remember."

"Logan, I have rounds before we leave."

"Sleep on the plane"

"You're crazy."

"Crazy about..."

He couldn't finish because she'd clamped her hand over his mouth. "Don't use that old line, boy. Just kiss me." He kissed her and then some.

The alarm clock buzzed loudly so she reached over and slammed the snooze button; a rare thing for her but couldn't will herself back to sleep. Mildly irritated at not being able to quite start the holiday weekend, but still basking in the afterglow of a few hours ago, she gently kicked his backside. He jerked awake and muttered a few ripe expletives.

"Time to make the donuts" she declared.

Grumbling, he asked, "Just what the hell does that mean?"

"Don't you remember the old Dunkin Donuts ad from years ago?"

"Ummm, don't think so."

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't; never mind."

He yawned and sat up. "Is there a reason you woke me up?"

She threw on her robe and tossed him some shorts. "Misery likes company; besides I need you to take the cats to the kennel and some other stuff."

He followed her to the kitchen. "Cats, other stuff?" He hated dealing with the cats as much as they seemed to hate him. A mental picture danced around his brain of futile attempts to get them into their travel cages. It's a good thing he healed quickly, because at least one of the cats was not going into that cage without a fight.

"Here's the list. I would have done more, except it was too crazy at the hospital and I haven't been feeling well this week. I'm sorry for dumping this on you."

"It's ok." he answered resignedly. Sipping his coffee he wanted to know if she was feeling better because she'd been complaining off and on for the past week that her stomach had been upset and feeling run down.

"I think so." she answered "I've got to boogie if I'm going to get everything done in time." She dashed to their bathroom, coffee mug in hand, to grab a fast shower.

A few minutes later, as she dashed out the door, "Logan, turn on your cell phone. If it gets crazy over at the hospital, I might need you to pick me up on the way to the airport."

Still in his shorts, working on his second cup of coffee, he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow with one of those ok- but- you're- gonna -owe- me looks. After finishing his coffee and studying _the list_, it was time to get to it.

Shower, pack; simple stuff. Water the plants? _She's kidding!_ he thought. _No, it was on_ _the list_. He had no clue how much water her mini-jungle was supposed to get. He doused them and hoped for the best. "Don't die on me or I'm dead." he said out loud and felt stupid talking to them.

Now, to round up the cats; and right off the bat he made the strategic error of bringing the travel cages in sight. The cats spotted them and headed for their cleverest and hard- to- get- to hiding spots. Cleo was the older of the two and friendlier. She could be lured by a can of tuna and that's precisely the tactic he used. "That's a good girl" he muttered as he closed the first cage. When Cleo realized she'd been maneuvered, she promptly turned her back and flicked her tail.

Trixie, most unsociable, did not like Logan or anyone else, except Susan. She spent most her time hiding out, especially when Logan was around. If they crossed paths, she wasted no time in expressing her dislike of this human that had invaded her territory. When Susan wasn't around, he would occasionally yank her tail or hiss back and even growled once. He thought the cat was going to drop dead from shock and laughed so hard his sides ached over it.

Catching her without causing harm turned into a forty five minute hunt, corner and escape melee. He'd find her, corner her and try to grab her. She'd slip out of his grasp and run like crazy for another hiding place. He got hold of her once and she sunk her teeth into his wrist and clawed his arm. It hurt like hell so he dropped her. That was better than breaking her neck, which was his first instinct.

Damn if her teeth didn't sink right into the wrist pulse point and he bled like crazy in the two minutes or so before healing. _Ok, lets add clean up the mess to the list, _he fumed.

Finally he decided he wasn't going to capture her and have her live to tell about it. He had to come up with Plan B, fast.

Marie! He could ask her to feed the cats while they were out. She was more than happy to help and went one step further by offering to house sit. He quickly took her up on it and when he asked what he'd owe for the favor; she said "Not a thing, 'cept maybe help with my car." She'd bought a '68 Mustang and was constantly having expensive repairs. He did know how to keep a classic like that running and was more than happy to help.

Things did get crazy for Susan at the hospital as it always does when there are other deadlines and she did end up calling Logan to fetch her. With not a lot of time to spare, he managed to pull it all together, get Matt from his father's, cruise by the hospital for Susan and get them to LaGuardia Airport.

"Did you have any trouble" she asked as they cruised the freeway.

She meant the cats and he knew it. He hoped she wouldn't object to his Plan B but it was kind of too late. "Nah" he nonchalantly fibbed.

"Really? I'm glad. I felt bad leaving you. I know Trixie's a handful."

He kept driving and didn't say a word. A few more miles behind them and he started to feel guilty. "I, umm, didn't get the cats to the kennel" he said sheepishly.

"What? Logan, you didn't just leave them? They can't go four days without..."

Matt in the backseat, playing with his Game boy, snickered.

"Relax" he reassured. "I got it covered, Marie's house-sitting."

She was silent for a moment then smiled. "That using your noggin! I should've thought of that."

He flashed his best ain't- I- great grin.

Getting through airport security was all the hassle he expected. Going through the metal detectors, even with his 'doctor's note' was a pain. He even thought they were going to ask him to strip down to his underwear, but he kept a sense of humor as best he could. "Damn, at least if I have to be strip searched the security attendant could be nice looking" he said to Susan after clearing security.

"Oh, the injustice of it all" she teased with dramatic flair.

"Damn straight."

They got to the terminal just about boarding time though he expected a wait and went to the nearest news stand. When First Class passengers were called and she motioned to come on, he was surprised. He hadn't paid attention to the flight information and didn't know she _only_ flew first class but should have guessed. She didn't do much of anything economy because she didn't _have_ to. He wasn't marrying for her money, but the added perk surely wasn't hard to take.

They settled in for the three and a half hour flight. Matt remained engrossed in his GameBoy. Susan did indeed snuggle into Logan's shoulder and snoozed. He did the same for a little while and then read a few magazines. When he started to get bored, he nudged her. "Want something to drink?"

"Oh, I guess so" she replied drowsily. "Some club soda, maybe."

"You don't want some wine?"

"No. My stomach's still a little touchy."

"I thought you said you were fine?"

"I am, as long as I'm careful. Don't worry about it. There's been this little gastro-bug going around and it just takes time to get over."

"Ok." He signaled the flight attendant. "I'll have scotch and the lady here will have club soda." He glanced at Matt. "You want something to drink?"

"Yes sir. A coke, please."

A little later, he asked, "So tell me what to expect from this family reunion of yours."

She'd already thoroughly briefed him but he was still uneasy. One of the big reasons he agreed to come to along was it was a Cullinan Family reunion and not a Stryker reunion.

He'd be lying to himself if he denied apprehension about this whole thing. He was making himself captive in a situation that he'd not handled before. Despite all of her assurances he still worried. There were still things that set him off and he hoped being around her people would keep that _other_ personality of his at bay.

Having a dual personality was fine in certain circumstances. Just a bit of distance, a wall, made doing his job easier, especially with the X-Team. Too many emotional connections, too much familiarity in the mix and that edge needed to do the hard stuff and sometimes ugly stuff, wasn't sharp enough. The berserker rage, as much as he abhorred it, proved useful more times than he'd care to remember.

Teaching and coaching required a different kind of distance though. He cared about those kids, but he expected a lot from them. He wanted to be known as tough but fair and wanted to be 'real' for the kids; unlike at least one or two teachers he knew who thought the realness thing wasn't valid. So far, he thought he was on the right track no matter the criticism from some sources. He'd never admit it, not even to himself, but it mattered what some people thought about him, especially Susan.

They landed on time but took another hour and a half to taxi into the terminal, get the luggage and make their way to the rental car area. His only comment when he got a look at the very nice red Mercedes convertible she'd rented for the weekend was, "Kind of broke the budget, eh?"

She smiled sweetly, "Not at all."

They tooled down the highway, Susan driving, westbound toward Eagle Mountain Lake with top down and radio blasting. Fort Worth traffic was a bother but once they got to the western edge, everything opened up; traffic and scenery. It was flat and dry and hot as hell; typical for Labor Day Weekend in north Texas. His only complaint was the Country radio station she tuned in and he griped about it.

"Better deal with it; tomorrow nights Boot Scoot is all country."

"What the hell's a Boot Scoot" he asked with plenty of sarcasm?

"Dancing."

"Don't dance" he retorted.

"Don't or won't?"

He just snorted.

"Suit yourself, Bright eyes. I do and if you don't or won't, I've got plenty of cousins who will."

"Are you telling me you'll leave me in the dust if I don't dance with you?"

"Would I do an awful thing like that?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I think you would."

"Only for a little while, darling." She reached and squeezed his thigh. "You may not dance, but you make up for it other ways."

They both smiled knowingly at each other. Of course, teenage boys have radar when it comes to these things. "Will you guys quit with the lovey-dovey stuff, please." Matt piped up from the back seat.

"Don't know what you're talking about, son" she answered.

Logan didn't say a word; just winked at her.

"Hey, Logan?" Her toned change to a bit more serious.

"Hey Susan." He was still goofing.

"I've got to check on the Ranch tomorrow. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, why should I?"

"Just checking."

After of few miles, he asked, "Sue, would you mind if I went along?"

"What? To the ranch?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think you can handle it? There's a lot of….. well a lot of my Dad there."

He didn't answer right away. She had a point but he'd made a conscious choice to do his level best to put all of that into some kind of workable perspective. "Ya know what, darlin? You're dad did one thing right in his life;…"

She glanced at him with a what- are- you- saying look.

Lowering his voice so Matt wouldn't hear, "William Stryker had the good sense or good luck to create you. That ranch is part of who you are and I want to share it with you, if you'll let me."

Susan smiled a bitter sweet smile, touched by his uncharacteristic display of openheartedness and nodded.

When they pulled into the resort a large contingent of family was already milling about, greeting, hugging and kissing and oohhing and aahhing over each other, especially the large brood of children. In the minute or two it took Susan to pull the car into a parking spot, Logan witnessed more family bonding than he ever witnessed or cared to witness in a lifetime and began to feel like he might be in over his head. She immediately sensed his tension. Before exiting the car, she reached and gently touched his cheek "You'll be fine."

With a tensed-jaw smile, he mumbled "Right."

Susan was able to exuberantly greet her family, skillfully introduce Logan and deflect a good portion of attention to Matthew since he'd grown so much since the last reunion. The only person she couldn't deflect from Logan from was Aunt Colleen but that wasn't really a bad thing. If there was ever a special relative that she wanted him to get to know and care for, it was Colleen.

Colleen Margaret Cullinan Kleiberg, the quintessential Texas woman; beautiful in her younger days, elegant and stylish now; she was spunky and sassy, down to earth, no nonsense and smart as whip. She was an excellent judge of character and not afraid to speak her mind. She'd seen her share of hard work and hard times. She knew the oil and gas business, ranching at its best and worst; comfortable in a business board room as on a quarter horse roping long horn cattle.

"Sassy-Girl" Aunt Colleen hollered out when she spied the red Mercedes.

Logan immediately gave Susan a quizzical look. "Sassy-Girl?"

"Well, it's nicer than Wolverine" she retorted.

"Ouch" he hissed.

Colleen smothered her favorite niece in a great big hug and kisses then set her sights on Matthew. "Just look at you boy! Excuse me- young man!" Matt was easily gracious, at least as much as a fifteen year old can be.

Approaching Logan, Colleen reigned in her exuberance. First addressing Susan, "So this is your young man?" Then looking him right in the eyes, "Sassy told me a bit about you when she was down. I'm pleased to meet you." She embraced him gently, almost formally; sensing his complex and mixed emotions. Colleen was a mutant and had the gift of sensing feelings or emotions with some limited ability to manipulate them, but rarely utilized the manipulating part. She also could sense another mutant, as could he.

Logan did sense what she was and the goodness in her and was able to accept her embrace with relative ease. He wasn't quite ready to return the gesture, but he didn't feel that old fight or flight reaction, either.

Slipping her arm around his waist, "Aunt Colleen, this is James Logan," and then held up her hand with the engagement ring. "my fiancé!

"Well, ain't that grand!" Colleen gushed. "So, sort- of- serious back in July just got real serious. Welcome James."

"Pleased to meet you, Colleen. It's just Logan" he replied easily in a polite, warm tone that surprised him. He normally hated introductions and rarely ever responded with anything other than a grunt and scrutinizing gaze. Colleen completely disarmed his defenses in less than a minute but he didn't feel threatened in the least.

"We're in neighboring cabins" Colleen said placing herself between them, arm in arm, leading off in the direction to register and pick up the weekend's itinerary. Matt had already split to catch up with his cousins.

When Logan and Susan, who had been eventually left on their own and found their cabin; he felt like he'd just been through a small tornado. "What was that" he asked?

"That's good old Aunt Colleen. She's a trip."

"Yeah, she is" he agreed. He took in the atmosphere of the cabin; nicest cabin he'd ever seen. A spacious great room; southwest motif, of course, well appointed kitchenette and two bedrooms with their own spacious bathrooms, situated opposite sides of the main area. Cabins to him meant beaten down, drafty, vermin infested dumps but this was definitely not the case. To make it even nicer, the kitchenette had been nicely stocked with more than basics and a wet bar and small fridge in the corner was fully stocked. He grabbed a beer to soothe his thirst as he hauled luggage.

Susan, for some strange reason, was feeling tired and asked him if he minded if she rested for a while before dinner.

He looked concerned. "You still feeling bad?"

"Kind of; this is so annoying."

"Don't worry 'bout it' and went for another suitcase. He got all the bags into the cabin and then proceeded to find her snoozing, sprawled crosswise on the bed. He sat down and smoothed his hands through her blond, wavy hair. She sighed. He began to massage her shoulders.

"That's nice" she cooed.

It wasn't long before his massaging ran the length of her back, then nuzzled her hair and neck and progressed to gentle, lingering kisses down her back.

She sighed, "What cha doin', Bright eyes."

"What do ya think?"

"Don't know, but I like it" she purred and rolled over and reached for him. "Kiss me."

Breaking away for a moment, "better close the door. Matt might come back."

They were awakened later by the sound of boisterous teenagers in the main room of the cabin. Matt and cousins had come to check out video games. Irritated at having their 'love nest' disturbed, Logan was about to go and give the kids a piece of his mind, when Susan stopped him. "Hey, it's a family reunion, Bright eyes. Our honeymoon's next month."

He smirked and reluctantly agreed with her point of view.

"Why don't you go out and meet some of the kids while I shower" she suggested?

"Do I have to?"

"What do you think?"

He groused, "I hate it when you do that." He really did, too. He felt maneuvered when she answered a question with another but she was so charming about it. She got her way with him more than any other person on the planet ever could. "Ok" he replied and pulled his clothes on and padded out, barefoot, to meet the kid-cousins and whip them at video games.

Later, supper was held in a barn-like structure surrounded by the cabins. Four sides of it had huge sliding panels for openness and airflow. The menu was chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and creamed gravy, fried okra; which Logan had never heard of, sweet corn, slaw, cornbread and fruit cobblers and ice cream for dessert. He could never complain throughout the entire weekend that the Cullinan clan did not know how to eat. He wasn't familiar with some of the foods, but didn't come across anything he didn't like. Well, maybe the sweet tea he could have done without but the beer was damned good and some of the Mexican side of the family shared some authentic south of the border Tequila; the likes of which he hadn't enjoyed in a very long time.

After supper, the clan dispersed into smaller groups to play cards, shoot pool, throw horse shoes or visit. Some of the kids went off to utilize the swimming pool and just hang out away from the grown-ups. Another group with small children and babies called it a night.

Susan was content to visit and Logan followed her around for a while until growing bored with _inside_ family talk. He joined some of the men shooting pool and smoking cigars. _Oh yeah, they weren't around home or School so cigars were ok. There was some_ _justice left in this world_, he thought with satisfaction.

The men were interested in his yarns of working on oil rigs and work as part of a repair crew on the Trans-Alaskan pipeline. When they found out he was Canadian, they subjected him to a little good- natured ribbing. Quality cigar, clamped between his teeth, potent tequila shots under his belt and playing a good game, he had no trouble handling the teasing. When they questioned him how he met Susan and how an ex-oil rigger came to be a school gym coach, he simply explained that it was a really long story and then countered the questioner with a question of his own. Someone questioned him about his name. Logan just shrugged and said he'd just always gone by his last name ever since he'd been in the military. Raising the military topic brought tales from the men about their exploits. Logan had to be careful, not wanting to open up anything that could be misunderstood. He left it at that he'd been Special Forces and couldn't go into it. He couldn't remember if that was completely true, but it could've been and his answer seemed earned him respect and understanding from them.

Logan was curious about ranching and the oil and gas business; having only been in the hard-labor part of it. The men were happy to share colorful yarns about both lifestyles that became rowdier and ruder as the evening progressed. Susan had kept an eye on things, ready to step in if she felt he was getting uncomfortable but he seemed relaxed and to be enjoying himself. So far, perfect; and she was proud of him.

Very late that night Susan awoke to the sound of Logan's snoring. The full moonlight streamed through to windows and cast a glow across the bed. She turned toward him and was about to nudge him so he'd quit snoring.

The moonlight fell over is body. He laid on his back, stretched out, arms crossed above his head. She propped herself up on an elbow and truly took in the sight of him; perfectly relaxed, his face serene with no sign of that scowl he often brandished. That look was such a habit, at least that's what she guessed. He has such a disarming smile, though; his whole face would light up. That grin of his was something else altogether; sexy or mischievous, depending on the circumstances; he could break hearts all over the world.

His lips were gently parted, his jaw relaxed. He had sensuous lips and he knew how to kiss a woman! And oh, was he virile and passionate; he knew how to give it out and was unstinting and inexhaustible with his affections.

His thick eyelashes fringed his gently shut deep brown eyes. His eyes had got to her the very first moment they'd met. Anyone who thought of him as a one-dimensional type of person didn't take the time to really look into his eyes. She could still get lost in them; with a glance he could break her heart or send it soaring to the heavens. She could almost feel it when his eyes betrayed his own fear, pain or sadness and she had deep respect for his mood when he got that stormy look in his eyes.

His skin was baby soft and flawless with no calluses or scars thanks to his healing abilities. Despite its often unruly appearance, his hair was soft and she loved to run her hands through it.

He always smelled good to her; clean and masculine (whatever that really was). Besides his eyes, it was his scent; that certain chemical thing that had instantly attracted her. She loved to snuggle close and just breathe in his essence. Sometimes she'd put off changing their bed sheets not wanting to lose his lingering scent.

His well muscled chest slowly rose and fell with each breath he took. He was perfectly sculptured; not an over- the- top body builder type, but lean where it looked good and muscled where it looked better. He was definitely easy on the eyes.

Logan was such an interesting man; contradictory and more complicated than most gave him credit for. He was strong and dependable; loyal to those deserving; had an unshakeable sense of right and wrong and willing to defend his ethic to the bitter end. He could be kind and gentle but not in the traditional sense and he was learning to be sociable and thoughtful even if it might never be second nature.

Though he didn't remember how, he'd been very well educated, having a mastery of many languages and cultures. He had a sophisticated bearing that didn't always match his unpolished appearance. In contrast, he often presented himself as aloof, uncultured, threatening and even feral; probably a reflex in order to survive both physically or more importantly, emotionally. It was a miracle that he wasn't completely unhinged from the horrible tortures and experiences he suffered and he'd admitted that at one point years ago, right after Alkali Lake, he'd been a 'little nuts'.

His Post Traumatic Stress issues were not to be ignored; suffering from frightening, even dangerous reactions to certain triggers. She never, ever wanted to see one of his rages and she hoped some of his self-destructive behaviors were a thing of the past. His nightmares seemed less frequent or at least less violent since they'd had been together, though she knew they still haunted him and sensing a bad night coming on, would retreat to the couch. It broke her heart to hear him cry out, then wake sweating, nearly ill and then not be able to get back to sleep. Sometimes he'd come to her for comfort, but mostly kept to himself.

For all it was worth, this man sleeping peacefully next to her was her Prince; certainly not charming in the story book sense and certainly not perfect. But imperfections, issues, a few rough edges, Logan was the man she'd fallen head over heels, first in lust then in love with a few months ago. What a ride it had been and what a trip it was probably going to be for hopefully many years to come.

Still sleeping peacefully, Logan sighed and shifted on the mattress. She reached to feather her fingers through his hair. "I love you James Logan" she whispered not knowing if he'd heard.

"Hmmm," he sighed mostly asleep. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Then he turned his body toward her, enveloping her in his arms. "I love you too'' he whispered.

"I want you" and she kissed him deeply and melted into him.

That woke him up! "Right now?" A surprised grin spread across his face.

She didn't answer with words, but her message came through loud and clear.

Friday morning dawned hot, humid and still; a typical, southern plains, late summer day. Logan stood on the front porch, enjoying the sunrise. He inhaled deeply, taking in all the scents. The weather had its own smell. There was the scent of the dry, black soil mixed with sand and limestone-completely different than New York or Canada. He caught the scent of a coyote in the distance and oh yeah, that fragrant skunk. The lake smelled vaguely stagnant. People were going to water ski in that? Wafting over the natural smells, was brewing coffee and other breakfast goodies and his stomach growled.

It was eighty degrees already and he wondered why he was drinking hot coffee? Habit was the answer. A cold beer would suit better. Iced tea? Couldn't stand the stuff, at least not that Texas sweet tea.

He couldn't say he liked the climate in the south even though he could tolerate pretty much any climate. He definitely preferred colder. He liked the mountains better than this flat, open countryside. It was easier to escape and hide out in mountains if one had to. A person was a sitting duck in this terrain. He chuckled to himself, always on alert. No matter where he went or what he did, he had to size a place up for possible dangers and escapes. What would it feel like to be completely relaxed, feel one hundred percent safe?

Susan wandered onto the porch with a glass of juice. She smiled at the sight of him.

"'morning" she said and kissed him.

He ruffled her hair and then put his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, it is. Sleep good?"

"Mmmmm, hmmm. A few more hours would feel really nice."

"Go on back to sleep. You're on vacation, remember" he encouraged.

"I know. But if we're going to the ranch, we need to get started soon."

"If you say so" he answered. "I'm going to grab a shower" and looked at her with a want- to- join- me? glance.

She smiled back at him so innocently. "I've got two words for you, _be-have_?"

"Don't I always?" he answered back, making his way into the cabin.

"You're good, Bright eyes, but you don't always behave" she said with a laugh.

It was just the two of them on the hour and a half drive to the ranch. Matt opted to stay at the resort to water ski and whatever else he could get into with his cousins. Logan drove so he could have control over the radio but was itching to take the Mercedes convertible through some paces. Susan warned to obey the speed limits near the small towns along the way. Out- of- towner's in fancy cars were always of target of small town police forces.

A private road leading to the ranch house was a twenty minute drive in itself. The terrain of the ranch was a bit hilly with low scrub trees and bushes dotting the roadside along with a few working oil rigs, long horn cattle and ponies grazing. They passed by some stock ponds and some out buildings. She explained that the cattle and horses didn't belong to her as it was common to lease pasture land. The oil rigs, however, were hers.

"Who manages all of this?"

"Well, Gerardo and Therese manage and run a good portion of the livestock operations and hire their own help. The oil and gas operations are run by C&K Oil and Gas. My Uncle David, you played pool with him last night, heads up that company."

"I take it your Dad had nothing to do with any of it?"

"Not really. He married into it."

He was trying hard to picture William Stryker as something other than one of the monsters that had so brutally experimented on him. "How did your parents meet?"

"My mom was actually going with my Dad's roommate from West Point! Anyway, my mom's then boyfriend came down for a visit and brought William along. Apparently they hit it off rather well and Mom dumped Cal, the boyfriend, and dated my Dad exclusively from then on. They got married the day after Dad graduated from the Point. I came along six months later."

He mentally did the math. "Ok; read between lines on that one!"

"The part I left out was that no one in Mom's family liked him. Cal had been from around here and his family was known. It had been assumed that Mom and Cal were going to be married from the time they had been kids, I think. I honestly think if Mom hadn't been pregnant with me, they would have never married."

"How come?"

"They were so different. My Dad was career military all the way, according to Mom. Dad didn't like to stay in one place. Mom never wanted to leave the ranch for any length of time. Mom was a gentle soul. But I think Dad truly loved her though if I hadn't come across his memoirs, I would've never really thought he cared deeply about any one. It wasn't his nature to be very warm and loving."

_Kind of like me,_ he thought.

They finally pulled up in front of the main house, a two story stone and brick behemoth with deep porches all the way around. It was easy to pick out the original structure and where various additions had gone on with each successive generation. The place was old, as Texas homes go having been built by Susan's great grandfather in the 1890's.

"Are you ready for this" she asked offering one more opportunity to back out.

"I'm fine" he answered firmly

"Then, let's go." She led him by the hand up the steps to the front door.

Opening the front door, hot, closed up, stale air greeted their senses. No one had been in since Susan had left in early July and she'd not asked Therese to go in and turn on the air conditioners because visiting had been a last minute decision. She turned on some ceiling fans and dust bunnies that flew off as they turned made them sneeze. "I'll give you the grand tour" she offered.

The house was an eclectic mix of rustic western, Victorian and southwest and Mexican influences. There was a clear delineation between the masculine and feminine areas of the house. Bold colors of reds and yellows, deep blue's and wood tones made it seem even warmer than the temperature. As they wandered from room to room, both sweating buckets, she chattered about this picture or that piece of bric a brac or the story behind something else.

He paused for a long moment to study a painting over the massive stone fireplace; her parents, obviously very young. It struck him that Susan was a near reincarnation of her mother, except was blond and blue eyed. Aileen had dark brown wavy hair and brown eyes. The blond and blue eyes came from William.

She squeezed his hand and tried to read the intense look on his face. "Ok?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I've just got a different image in my mind of him."

She led him into another portion of the house. When they came to her father's study where she'd found the discs, the essence of him was still strong. It slammed into Logan's senses so there was no way he was going to be able to go in there. Tension growing, his grip on her hand became painful. She sensed it and quickly led him away. "Come on; let me show you my old room."

The staircase provided just enough distraction to calm him because lining a wall were photos of Susan and her brother taken at what seemed like yearly intervals. One picture, taken of her dressed in a kimono holding a doll dressed to match, stopped him in his tracks. He cocked his head and squeezed his eyes shut as a memory churned forth.

Noticing his comportment, she touched his forearm. "Bright Eyes?"

"When was this taken?" he murmured.

"Oh, let me think; my tenth birthday. Why?"

"Yamanakako."

"I guess. I know it was taken in Japan. How did you know?"

He muttered "Shit! I didn't think it was real."

"What?"

He rapidly explained "I was there! There was an earthquake and the bookshelves were falling…."

She looked stunned. "I remember that….our security guard kept it from falling. Oh my gosh, Logan that was you?"

He nodded.

"Why'd you think it wasn't real?"

"'Cause a few months back; this is weird, it was the same day you interviewed at School. I had a dream but I blew it off thinkin' it was an implanted memory."

Her expression was pensive. "You know, I remember the incident, but I don't really remember _you_."

He shrugged and smirked. "Since you were all of ten years old, I'll try not to be offended."

"I'm glad." Then she teased "If I was ten, then you had to be, what, twenty four? Gosh you really are an old man."

"I'm gonna ignore that, babe. Hey, can we bring these back?"

"The pictures? I don't see why not."

At the top of the stairway was a picture of her and her first husband, Allen, on their wedding day. "This one can stay" he said firmly.

She laughed. "You know, I'd like to have a good picture of us."

Silent, he looked at her funny; he hadn't thought of it. He wasn't sure it was a good idea because he was paranoid of someone connecting them and harming her or using her to get to him.

Her old room was pretty much unchanged from when she'd moved out for college; typically frilly, too much pink and flowery stuff; tons of stuffed animals and dolls. There were also the requisite teenage crush posters on her walls. For her it had been Tom Selleck, Lee Majors and Richard Chamberlain.

He couldn't help teasing. "You know, Richard Chamberlain's gay."

She punched his arm. "Keep the reality to yourself."

They continued the tour of the upper floors, briefly going into her brother's old room. A picture of him, obviously taken in a school setting, made Logan stop for a moment. It was Jason with Charles Xavier, a very gawky Jean, babyish- looking Scott and others he didn't recognize. "How long ago was this taken?"

"About sixteen years ago, I guess" she answered with a tone of sadness. "I want to get something out of the master bedroom. Wait here, ok?

She was in there for longer than he thought she should be and it was very quiet. He called to her. "Babe? What cha doin?"

She was sitting at her mother's dressing table meaning to grab a particular photo of her and Jason together a few months before he'd died. Maybe it was the heat or the emotional strain, but she began to feel faint and a little sick. "I'm coming" she called back, sounding weak. She stood, made her way across the room into his line of sight then slowly crumpled to the floor.

"Susan!" He reacted fast and caught her before she actually hit the floor though couldn't save the photo from crashing to the floor, shattering the glass covering. He scooped her up into his arms and stood there for a moment deciding exactly what to do. He carried her downstairs where the ceiling fans kept it just a tad cooler than the upstairs. "Susie. Come on Baby." She mumbled incoherently. He laid her on a couch in the living room, placing her feet on a pillow so they'd be a little higher than her head. "Susan. Are you ok? Please be ok."

His positioning helped and she opened her eyes and blinked. "Oh, I think I fainted! I'm sorry."

He almost laughed at her apology. "Yeah, I think you guessed right. Are you too hot? Are you sick? What do you need?"

"Hmmmm" her voice was just a whisper. "Get me some water, please. I just need to rest."

He didn't want to leave her but the water bottles were in a cooler in the car. "Don't move" he ordered. He didn't have to worry because she still felt strangely weak; queasy and hungry at the same time. Returning, he supported her gently and held the water bottle to her lips.

In another ten minutes she felt strong enough to sit up and drink unaided. "I think I need some food. The whole thing feels like my blood sugar just dropped to zero.

"I think I'd like to take you to the ER" he countered. Did he say take her to a hospital? He couldn't believe he suggested it.

"No, I'll pass. I don't think anything's seriously wrong."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Ok, ok. Then where do we get food around here?"

"In town; the good ole DQ."

"DQ, it is." He held her around the waist and made for the car.

"I _can_ walk" she complained

"What the hell is a DQ" he asked?

"Dairy Queen, of course, it's the south's answer to Mickey D's"

Making light of her independence, "I don't need ya to fall on your face again and yeah, I know you can walk but I like to get a good feel every chance I can."

"I did _not_ fall on my face."

"Would've if I hadn't caught ya."

"You're my hero!" she said with dramatic flair.

Arching his eyebrows and grinning, replied. "I try."

Lunch did help and she chalked the whole fainting episode off to no breakfast, no air conditioning and just a little emotional strain. It took a little longer for her to convince Logan. He could be such a 'mother-hen' when he wanted to be. Overprotective, with a capital O and a take- control, I'm- gonna- tell- ya- how- it's- done style which was equally comforting and annoying but she loved him for it. She did take his suggestion of an afternoon nap when they got back to the resort though this time gently kicked him out, telling him to find way to entertain himself.

Matt tried to convince him to water ski but he declined. Water sports didn't come easy because adamantium clad bones made him something akin to a brick. When Matt wouldn't back down he finally ended up having to pull him aside, reminding him about his bones and the poor kid felt just a little stupid at his gaff. They settled on volleyball; men and boys against the women and girls. The ladies whipped the men's behinds three times in a row!

Since it was hot as hell, Logan did opt for a swim, mostly standing waist deep, in the pool after the volleyball rout. Susan was just waking from her nap, when he came in, all hot and sweaty to change into his swimsuit and a swim sounded like fun. The swim turned into a fun round of water polo in which the ladies continued their winning streak. This was getting way too embarrassing for him, especially since she was participating and could really spike the ball. It just seemed like she was aiming for his head every chance she got. There would _have_ to be retribution for her behavior.

After the men had enough of being abused, Logan got his chance. She had perched herself comfortably on a floating recliner with a frozen Margarita while he sat at the poolside bar nursing a bruised ego and a beer. He noticed she was chatting with a cousin so he slipped into the water unnoticed and dove down swimming as close to the bottom as possible. Suddenly, he popped up beside her, grabbed the edge of the lounger and rocked it back and forth! It startled her so much that she jumped, causing the lounger to become unbalanced and dumped her into the water.

"I'll get you for this" she shrieked and laughed as she fell. Surfacing, she furiously splashed him.

He plowed water right back moving closer with each splash and when at arms length, reached, pulled her close and kissed her. That elicited hoots, applause and cheers from the family. Knowing she'd been_ beat_, put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. "Now get me another Margarita" she cooed in his ear at the end of the kiss.

It wasn't too much longer before it was time to get ready for the big family event: The Bar-Be-Que and Boot Scoot which was a Cullinan Tradition from forever; food, drink, dancing and socializing into the wee hours. The dress code was decidedly Texas-western; pressed jeans and button- down shirts, dress boots and Stetsons for the men. Logan could do the pressed jeans, even though he didn't like them, preferring soft and worn; button down shirt-no problem, either. Stetson? Ain't happening. Western boots, why? He liked his own.

The ladies wore a mix of jeans or flowing skirts and ornate blouses and jewelry, especially big earrings. Some of the older gals did the clichéd big hair, which Texas women were famous for. Boots, of course, were de rigueur. Susan opted for a flowing denim, richly embroidered skirt that was hemmed just at the top of her boot, sleeveless white blouse; the collar had the same embroidery as the skirt and turquoise and silver earrings with her hair pulled back in a barrette that matched the earrings. Her boots were inlaid with different colored leather ornately patterned with Texas symbols.

Logan let out a low wolf-whistle when she emerged from the bedroom, dressed and ready to go and she did a little swirl to show off. "What's in the box" he asked, noticing that she was carrying a large cardboard box?

She handed it to him. "For you, Bright eyes!"

He opened it, revealing a custom pair of jet black leather boots; not overly western in style, not overly decorated, save for stitching and some small leather nubs or bumps that gave them some interest and texture. "Whoa!" He was surprised. "These are nice-very nice" and he meant it. He wouldn't have thought to buy them himself, but if he had, he'd probably pick out something like them. He wasted no time pulling off his old boots and slipping into the new ones. "How'd you know what size?"

She smiled slyly. "Got my ways!"

"They feel good!" With an appreciative grin, he stood and shook down his pants so they'd settle perfectly over the boots. He grabbed her in a bear-hug. "You're pretty special, you know that?"

"Your welcome" She knew that was his way of saying thanks. She stepped back and took in the sight of him; black jeans and boots, a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Dang, the man was just plain hot! She couldn't resist a gentle swat to his backside. "Now take me to a party."

The Cullinan clan had proven they knew how to eat and tonight they proved they knew how to party. After the feast a DJ began the evenings' entertainment. The theme was indeed country, which wasn't his first choice; however, first choice or not, it fit and with plenty of libations under his belt, almost anything was fine. Even when the music took a distinctly Texas- patriotic turn, playing the Eyes of Texas Are Upon You, Deep in the Heart of Texas and the Yellow Rose of Texas, he was beginning to relax enough he thought the whole thing was a quaint 'hoot'.

When dance music got started he didn't quite feel relaxed enough but after Susan had taken a turn on the dance floor with some of her cousins, decided he better step up. Yeah, he maintained he didn't dance, but he knew how and he did it well. He picked up the Texas Two Step and Cotton Eyed Joe in one try and while the Two-Step suited him, the Cotton Eyed Joe was too unmanly. Mostly he just liked to hold her close and sway to slow songs. Some of her cousins wanted to cut in and dance with him and he was gracious to a point but eventually shot her an I-need-rescuing look.

Some of the teenagers and younger adults took advantage when the DJ took a break and began to jam. They'd had enough of the old-fogy, hard core country stuff. Matt got involved and then soon decided that Logan needed to get involved. His step-dad-to-be was awesome on the twelve-string guitar. Not surprisingly, Logan wasn't real keen on the idea and ignored him and Susan wasn't going to step in either way; encouraging them at every opportunity work out their own boundaries. The 'kids' were pretty good but when it came to playing Hotel California, which was written for extensive twelve-string guitar, he decided to sit in.

"Alright!" Matt said enthusiastically and put his hand up in a high-five gesture.

"You owe me, dude." Logan retorted, looking serious but a twinkle in his eyes betrayed how he really felt.

As they jammed, some of Susan's female cousins and Aunt Colleen sat together and started a running commentary over Logan; overwhelmingly and gushingly positive was the tone of the chatter. What the women didn't know, well Colleen sort of did, was that he could hear everything. Susan just smiled sweetly and cast a glance toward him every now and again and they'd simultaneously roll their eyes at some of the conversation.

"Was your young man a musician" Aunt Colleen asked?

"No, ma'am." Susan answered

"Well he should be. That boy is good."

"He'd appreciate that, Aunt Colleen." She moved closer to her aunt and spoke in confidence, not wanting to provide more fodder for her cousins to embarrass him. "He's marvelous on piano, too."

Susan was surprised that he was up there jamming. He'd play for her and help Matt out all the time but that was at home. Once in a great while he'd help some of the kids at School. Music was one of his most private escapes. _He must_ _be feeling really comfortable_ she thought then took assessment on how much he had to drink. _Not that much, so far. Go figure!_

Finally, after a few Eagles tunes he turned the guitar over to another kid and took his place back with Susan.

She nudged him. "That was good, Bright eyes." After a few minutes the DJ returned they resumed dancing. "What possessed you to pull that little deal?"

"I don't know; momentary insanity" he answered?

"I'll buy that." They danced for a while, not speaking, then, "You know what, Logan?"

"What?"

"You're getting positively mainstream."

He looked at her strangely not sure whether she was complimenting him or something else.

"Seriously," she continued "You said once you just wanted to live a normal, boring, middle- class life."

"I did?"

"You can't get any more normal and middle class than a family reunion" she explained.

"Well, I'm still missing the boring part" he added.

"I'm sure that'll come; sooner rather than later."

The DJ indicated last call which was perfect timing, as she was getting tired and clasping his hand, "Let's go back."

He nodded and scanned around for Matt, spotting him sneaking a beer from a keg. He chuckled and nodded for her to look in the boy's direction.

She shook her head in dismay. "I hope he hasn't been doing this all evening."

"No. He's ok." Logan had been keeping track. Projecting his most authoritarian voice, called out Matt's full name and the boy was so stunned that he dropped the plastic cup, stood at semi-attention and got an 'I'm toast' look on his face. The look said it all and Logan and Susan knew nothing more be said for the moment.

"Time to go" Logan said calmly.

Following a safe distance behind, Matt answered, "Yes sir."

When the threesome got back to the cabin, Susan leveled the boy with her most practiced evil- eye and informed him that they needed to have a conversation the next morning.

Matthew responded with a sheepish "yes ma'am" and scurried off to his room worriedly contemplating the 'end of life as he knew it'.

"Glad you're not my mom" Logan said quietly after he was certain Matt couldn't hear. "That look of yours could turn a guy to stone."

She grinned evilly. "That's a carefully practiced skill."

They settled in for the night and after a few minutes he asked, "You sleepy?"

"A little, though my feet hurt from dancing."

"I can fix that" he answered and slid the covers down. "How 'bout a foot massage?" He didn't wait for an answer and he didn't stop with the foot massage. He stopped because, of all things, his X-phone buzzed. At least when the damn thing went off, things weren't too far along. "What?" he barked, letting irritation reflect in his voice. "You gotta be kidding? … Now?… I am on vacation…..Yeah, yeah, I know. The bad guys don't do vacations…..Rendezvous there?… Yeah, I know the spot… Half an hour?… You guys got my uniform on board?"

Susan caught on immediately. "Trouble?"

"Guess so; some kind of rescue in Louisiana." He slammed the closet door. "Shit!" Then he laughed "Positively mainsteam?" he quipped, referring to her earlier comment.

"Right!" He said the last word in a sarcastic, drawn out manner.

"Well, at least your moonlighter job isn't boring" she offered.

"Can you take me over to the other side of the lake?" he asked hurriedly pulling on his clothes. "Stormy's going to bring in a little fog so they can land."

"Of course" she answered and got dressed.

The drove around the lake not saying much and it wasn't long before a strange fog rolled in and the jet, in a wash of dust and debris, set down. She accompanied him to the gangway. "Be careful" she said pressing a kiss to his lips.

He nodded. "Be back as soon as I can." Silently he mouthed _love you._

"I love you to" she said out loud.

Scott called down his apologies from Charles and she nodded graciously and bid them all to be careful.

With him being gone all Saturday, Susan an opportunity to spend the day with her beloved Aunt Colleen. It also gave her the day to rest because still wasn't feeling quite herself. Colleen was more than tickled to spend the day with her favorite niece catching up on everything- especially every detail about Logan that she could wrangle out.

The two women started out in the late morning enjoying coffee in Colleen's cabin. Colleen was not a person to beat around the bush. Her first comments to Susan, after Matthew had excused himself to water ski with cousins, had to do with her appearance. To Colleen, she did seem a bit rundown and asked a very pointed question "Are you and that young man of yours lovin' on each other?"

She blushed deeply, "Aunt Colleen!"

Ignoring her embarrassment, continued, "I think you need to take what we used to call a rabbit test."

She shook her head. "I don't think so……Well nothing's impossible. But…. Oh for heaven's sake I'm forty one years old."

"Come on with me,"and motioned her out of the cabin and to the car. "Let's run to Wal Mart." On the trip into town, far away from prying ears, Colleen began to question very pointedly about Logan. "He's gifted, isn't he?"

"How did you know?"

"It takes one to know one."

She glanced at her Aunt for as long as she dared while driving. "I always knew there was something very special about you but I didn't know you were a mutant."

"I don't like that word- mutant. It's a gift from God, pure and simple."

"How I wish every one felt that way."

"I know child. Now, tell me about your Logan."

Susan proceeded to share all she knew about him and the discoveries they'd made in the last few months.

"I always knew Will Stryker was involved in something no good." Colleen hissed bitterly when Susan recounted Alkali Lake. "There's a special place in hell for demons like him."

Susan couldn't readily answer. Finally she sighed "I try real hard to hate the sin and love the sinner."

Colleen nodded in understanding. "You're a better woman than I."

"He was my father."

Colleen reached over to her niece and squeezed her shoulder, a look of deep compassion on her face. "Forgive this old woman."

When they got back to the resort, Susan ran the pregnancy test and it wasn't five minutes before two unmistakable blue lines appeared. "Oh my" she nervously laughed! "I never expected this" and continued to fret about her age and ability to carry a healthy pregnancy. She fretted about her own stupidity; for heaven's sake, she was a doctor and should have known.

Colleen was silent but had a knowing smile on her face as she read Susan's emotions.

When Susan began to fret about Logan's reaction she consoled her not to worry and shared what she'd sensed about him over the past few days. "You've nothing to fear, Sassy-Girl. He's a good man and he loves you, believe me."

She nodded knowing in her heart Colleen spoke truth, but still kicked herself over unintended consequences. Briefly she contemplated not telling him and not going through with it.

Colleen sensed her thoughts. "You couldn't live with yourself."

Briefly surprised by having her thoughts read, she replied "It's a natural thought, but you're right and I would_ never_ to that. Even if Logan doesn't take this well, I'll _have_ this baby."

In the wee hours Logan returned from the mission. He didn't contact Susan to pick him up from the other side of the lake because it was only a few miles from the drop point to the cabin and he needed time to unwind.

She heard him come in and sleepily asked, "Hey, your back. How'd it go?"

He leaned in for a kiss. "About fifty-fifty. Fuckin' concentration camp, if ya ask me."

She was aghast "You're kidding?"

"Wish to hell I was. We rescued about a dozen kids, but the ringleaders bugged out"

She switched on the light, "Sorry. How's Charles going to house twelve more kids? Isn't the School getting to capacity?"

"I don't need the light." he said as undressed. "Yeah, I guess I'm gonna be renovating the third floor." As he thought about the mission, his blood boiled with rage.Through clenched teeth he explained "Some of those kids are really messed up. I've seen some abuse in my day, shit I've been on the receiving end of it; but this was…." he shook his head, his expression a mix of sadness and revulsion, "…as bad as it gets."

"How so?" She asked, but could guess the answer.

Struggling for control, he growled, "Let's talk about it later; I'm gonna shower." Then tempering his emotions with a deep breath, "Stay awake?"

"Mmmm, hmmm."

About ten minutes later, he emerged freshly showered, a towel around his waist and she was propped up on the bed with pillows, reading. After a mission he was usually in the mood for some intense lovemaking and tonight was no exception but she had to talk with him first and hoped he could put aside the fallout from the mission.

Motioning for him to sit beside her with a serious look on her face; "Logan, I finally figured why I've been feeling so crummy lately." She took hold of his hands and placed them on her belly but he didn't pick up the gesture's significance.

"What's wrong? It's not something serious?"

She said nothing for a long moment. No matter how much she'd rehearsed this, she couldn't settle on just the right words.

His tone anxious, "Susan, what is it?"

"Well, it depends on your point view. Nothing's wrong, at least from my point of view, but yes, it _is_ serious."

"Whatever it is, I'm ok. What's going on?"

She took a deep breath, her face serene and gripped his hands tighter, pressing both their hands to her belly. "I'm pregnant!"

The look of shock on his face was something she'd never forget. It seemed like every possible emotion flickered across his face in the space of about a minute and a half. A quiet "Whoa" was all he could manage as he locked eyes with her. Then he stood, paced the room and finally stared out the window into darkness.

Apprehension in her voice and written on her face, "Logan, talk to me. What are you thinking?"

Turning to face her, his voice even, "I'm… a little stunned right now. I don't know what I'm thinkin'." He looked serious but not angry and sensed her apprehension.

She trembled, "Logan?"

The look on his face began to soften. "Yeah, I'm just a little umm..." Then he grinned and his eyes lit up. "but I'm thinkin' I could definitely get used to the idea." He sat beside her and tenderly ran a finger over her cheek, brushing away a tear that slid downward. "Hey, we're really gonna have a kid?" His voice was tender almost bewildered.

She nodded and then burst into tears of relief and he took her in his arms, pulling her tightly to his chest. He kissed her gently on the top of her head, murmuring that everything was ok. When he still sensed fear he lifted her chin to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... I don't know. I'm probably just hormonal." She tried to force a laugh.

"Nah, uh. I've only seen you upset like this once or twice before. It's your turn; talk to me."

Emotional floodgates burst and alternating between tears and laughter she expressed everything she'd been feeling since the afternoon when Aunt Colleen had twisted her arm to take the test.

When he thought she might be calm, he spoke gently. "I never expected this, but I'm _not_ sorry. When I asked you to be my wife, there weren't any conditions. Everything's going to be ok; we're going to be ok." He pulled her back into his arms and swallowed hard to steady his voice. "Do you _know_ how much I love you? I ... can't think of a better... expression of our love than... to have a child with you."

"I'm so glad. I was so afraid you wouldn't be happy." She realized that his bare chest was soaked with her tears and she began to giggle. "I think you need another shower. I'm sorry for being such a crybaby."

"Don't worry about it." he said as he reached for some tissues handing a wad to her. They slipped into bed and he wrapped his arms around her so that he could caress her belly. "How did it happen?" he whispered.

"What? Umm, Logan, I didn't get pregnant drinking the water in Westchester." She couldn't help the laughter in her voice

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." She sighed, "I've racked my brain. "My best guess is July. Remember, I came back from Texas with that sinus infection? I think the antibiotics I took messed up my birth control pills. I feel like such an idiot; I should've known to be more careful."

"Listen to me, Susan. I don't want to hear anything more about you messing up or shoulda been this or done that. It takes two; I'm fifty percent of the responsibility."

"I'm sorry for doubting you."

He pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. "Don't be. When do ya think he'll be born?"

"He?" She chuckled, "When did you get the gift of clairvoyance?"

"Wishful thinking!"

"You're cute, Bright eyes" and turned so they were face to face. "If my guess is right, then late April. An ultrasound will confirm it."

Wonder reflected in his voice, "I can't believe I'm going to be a dad."

"Well I can't believe I'm going to do this again."

"Well, I'm glad you are." He kissed her forehead gently "Sleep well, lady. I love you."

She fell asleep in minutes while he stayed awake for another hour or so. He gently caressed her taking comfort in her warmth and scent. Holding her close, it dawned on him that her scent had been different recently and now he knew why. Thinking about it more, he knew exactly when she conceived; July, when he'd come back from Canada; when he'd had his meltdown.

His mind went into overdrive thinking about the changes that had taken place in his life. In six short months, he had gone from a fairly promiscuous, entanglement-wary, single guy to deeply, almost dependently in love; about to be married in less than a month _and now_ he was going to be a father. He tried to envision what life might be like with a little one and it was a stretch to picture himself tooling around in an SUV with a baby seat in the rear and going to Disney World or where ever. He should be scared shitless but instead felt joy and wonderment. What did scare him was the thought that all these great things were just a dream and he'd wake up and it would all be gone. He finally drifted off to sleep fantasizing about the life he would provide for his son.

Logan woke well before Susan the next morning, threw on jeans and padded silently into the small kitchen to brew coffee then filled his mug and wandered out to the small porch. The sun was beginning to rise; a huge red glow in the eastern sky. It was already warm and muggy; another hot day for sure and he couldn't understand how people got used to Texas heat. Leaning on the porch railing, sipping his coffee and taking in the glorious sunrise, he meditated in the silence of the early morning, still 'high as a kite' over last nights news.

Aunt Colleen, whose cabin was directly next door, came out to take in the early morning tranquility, too. She spotted him and sauntered over.

"Mornin', Colleen."

"Glad your back, young man. Glad you stayed; figured you would, though."

It took him a second to figure out what she was saying, "It's going to be a warm one, eh."

"The weather say's it's fixin to storm later today; dry line's shifting from west Texas.."

He nodded. "Who else knows?" The question was not about weather reports.

"Right now, just you and me; though, I expect some of the older gals might have guessed."

"Colleen" Logan looked at the old woman with respect, "I know I've kinda been under the microscope. It would be nice to know I passed inspection, but in the end the only thing I care about is Susan's happiness..."

She cut him off. "Hush, boy."

It irritated him that she continually referred to him as _Susan's young man_ or _boy_, but let it go. Hell, she was eighty years old and earned the right to call anybody anything she wanted. Besides, he knew it was meant endearingly.

"I know all about you. Sassy and I spent the whole day together yesterday."

He looked uncomfortable. "_All _about me?"

"Everything and all I can say is God bless you, young man! You've been to hell and back and seem to be better for it. This old woman cain't be fooled. I took one look at you and just knew you were a good man and that's more than I can say for that no-count father of Sassy's. Will Stryker, in my opinion, was a ... Well, it's Sunday and I best keep my unkind thoughts to myself."

The mention of Stryker's name made him tense up and put fire in his eyes. He muttered an expletive.

"Hush and let an old woman finish" Colleen continued. "You two might have gotten the cart in front of the mule, so to speak, but, hell, you're adults; happens all the time when people love on each other."

Logan was getting really uncomfortable, feeling like a sixteen year old getting 'the lecture'.

"The point I'm tryin to make, son, is _welcome_ to the Cullinan Family and you better spread the news about this new baby or this old woman ain't going to be able to keep her mouth shut much longer. Now, where's your manners? You haven't so much as offered me coffee."

Logan jumped off the railing like a sternly admonished adolescent. "Yes ma'am. What'll ya take in it?"

"Black and very hot" she answered with a warm smile "and before you run off to the kitchen, come here and get a hug." Feeling completely at a loss for what to say he simply did as she asked. Her hug was strong for her age. "You're going to make a wonderful addition to this family." She released him and looked directly into his eyes, "Don't you fret about the mutant-thing; I've got a gift myself."

While Logan poured coffee for Colleen, he deeply wished his mother would have been like her and decided that if his firstborn turned out to be a girl, Colleen would be her name. They sat quietly on their respective porches sipping more coffee and talking about everything under the rising sun.

Susan woke up and joined them. "Good morning y'all." she said with a yawn then sat in the chair next to him. He leaned over for a good morning kiss.

"This old woman's going to get ready for Mass." Colleen excused herself and went to her cabin. She knew when it was time to speak her mind and when it was time to leave things be.

"How'd ya sleep" he asked?

"Fine. Never enough, lately. You?"

"Not much." he squeezed her hand "Kept thinkin."

"'bout what, sweetie?"

He shook his head. "Too much of everything." He remained silent for a while. "I don't know anything about this pregnancy thing. What am I supposed to do?"

She laughed at his expression. "Well, actually you did exactly what you were supposed to do in, oh about ninety seconds or so; about eight weeks ago" she teased.

He shot her a sour look. "You know what I mean. What's going to happen?"

"Well, let's see; if the past repeats itself, I'm going to be grouchy and moody. I'm probably going to throw up at random times and I'm going to start looking like a double-wide trailer a couple months from now..."

"This is promising!"

"When we get back home, remind me, I have a book that explains everything."

"You hungry?" He really wanted to change the subject for a while. His fantasy was colliding with her description of reality.

"Starving. What are ya making?"

"Keep me company while if figure it out."

She settled herself on the couch with her tea while he got busy cooking bacon and conversed back and forth about the upcoming day.

"Coming to Mass" she asked?

He drew in a deep breath and thought for a moment. "I don't know."

"It's pretty casual; definitely different than back home."

"I'll think about it." He left it hang and she knew that meant 'no'.

Matt smelled the aroma of frying bacon and made a drowsy appearance.

She smiled at her son. "Morning, son."

Matt's reply was a yawn and a grunt as he perched on a counter top.

Logan handed the boy a mug of coffee and he nodded thanks staring off into space trying to wake up.

He continued cooking and glanced over at Susan leaning back on the couch and looking very strange. "Hey, what's a matter?"

"The bacon doesn't smell very appetizing." she answered weakly. "Uh oh!" She quickly ran for the kitchen sink and promptly vomited the tea she'd been drinking.

"Whoa, Mom!" Matthew leaped off the counter, clearly grossed out.

"Sorry, guys" she croaked "occupational hazard" and wretched again.

Logan's stomach threatened to return the coffee he had but fought it back. Sympathy puking wasn't an image he wanted to project. "Can I do anything?"

She nodded and composed herself. "Club soda, saltines and get that bacon _out_ of here, _please_."

"You got it." He grabbed the frying pan off the stove and stuck it on the porch. In his haste to accommodate her, he didn't use a hot-mitt and burned his hand. Feeling like an idiot and muttering colorful expletives he shook and flexed his hand and skittered around the porch in pain. In about a minute and a half the burns healed and he composed himself, glanced around to make sure he hadn't been seen, and coolly sauntered back into the cabin, certain his 'reputation' was secure.

Matt took the hint and poured her a glass of club soda. "No crackers, Mom; sorry." Figuring she had a stomach bug or something, decided to go to another cabin to have breakfast with a cousin. Feeling embarrassed, she didn't question his choice.

Logan silently debated following Matt, but decided it be a socially incorrect move at this particular moment. His initiation to the 'joys' of her pregnancy were going to come sooner rather than later. Delicately he asked "This let's up after a while, doesn't it?"

"Maybe" she answered between sips of club soda, which helped. "With Matt I sick only the first weeks but with Travis, I threw up until the day I had him."

_Ok! This **is** going to be fun,_ he thought. "Susan, I'm hungry" he whined "what can I fix that won't bother you?"

"Try some toast and maybe some scrambled eggs?"

"It's better than nothing." He mourned the loss of the bacon as he cooked up the eggs and toast. He was still hungry when it came time for church, so decided to skip it and try and salvage the bacon while she was gone.

When she got back, they decided together to let Matt in on the situation and then let the new casually come out in conversation over the day. She knew exactly who to tell to cause the news to spread fast. "Just tell Margaret and Bridget" she suggested "and everybody will know in about half-an-hour."

"You're going to deprive me of making a dramatic announcement" he mused?

"Well, if you really want to" she answered.

"Hell, no! Not my style." He was a little unsure if she was serious or not.

"Didn't think so."

Matt was initially cool with the news and then his mood changed and he actually looked slightly panicked. Reading her sons look and mood, Susan asked what was wrong.

He hesitated not quite knowing how to appropriately express his thoughts. Finally he just blurt out. "Mom, this is really neat, don't think I'm a dirtbag or anything... But, God, all my friends are going to, like you know; know my mom does _It_."

She struggled very hard not to laugh knowing that was the last thing he needed right now. After he departed to meet up with cousins, they both laughed so hard their sides ached.

Later, all three headed off to a nearby water park for the day where Logan and Matt wore themselves out on water slides while Susan relaxed in the shade with her cousins and Aunt Colleen and traded tales about pregnancies and baby stories before finally being chased away by bad weather.

Logan's senses began to tingle hours before the first storm clouds appeared on the horizon. He'd had spent a very short time in Texas many years ago and had never witnessed one of these storm events. He only knew he felt extremely uneasy and hovered around Susan and the other women being a pest. Aunt Colleen sensed his unease and tried to be reassuring.

They made it back to the resort just as the storm broke. Through driving rain, golf ball sized hail and straight line winds; they made a run from cars to cabins. Logan practically carried Aunt Colleen into the cabin with Sue and Matt directly on his heels. When he lifted the elderly woman up, Colleen hollered with glee, "If I was a whole mess o' years younger..." she didn't finish!

When he set her down safely he planted a kiss on her cheek. "I like your style, Colleen"

Completely unoffended, Colleen hooted to Susan. "You best hold onto this one Sassy-Girl. I can name a mess o' your cousins who'd be happy to... well anyway."

Susan gave her beloved Aunt a knowing look. "My cousins, Aunt Colleen?"

"Shush, girlie! An old widow can still appreciate the finer things." They both laughed heartily.

Logan sensed an ominous change in the atmosphere as the pressure changed and acute hearing picked up a deep bass rumble. Motioning for Matt to join him, they left the gossiping women and stepped onto the porch. Not far to the west, an ominous wall of greenish-black clouds moved at a rapid pace toward the resort as rain blew horizontally. They stood transfixed until the realization hit; they were staring at an oncoming tornado.

"Shit!" Logan said aloud and rushed back into the cabin pulling Matt along "Ladies, does this place have a storm cellar?" Just then a warning siren blared.

"Don't think so" Colleen answered. "We need to go into a center room with no windows."

He thought for a second. "Bathroom- now!" He shouted above the increasing din of wind and rain and simultaneously took the women by the arms "Move it, Matt." He nearly pushed them into the bathroom. "Stay" he ordered! Susan shrieked when she realized he didn't stay.

He had no idea why he went back outside except the oncoming tornado was intriguing. His skin tingled just before lightning struck close by and he could smell the ozone as an explosion of thunder made his ears ring. As the wall cloud approached the winds became completely calm and he felt the pressure drop again and could_ feel_ the bass rumble inside his head. He stared, completely mesmerized. Quickly the wall cloud became an organized swirl and a black tendril reached down from the sky. The rumble became mixed with a shrieking sound and he continued to stare, unable to move a muscle. His intellect warned to get the hell away but his body wouldn't respond and for whatever stupid reason, the phrase _I'm not in Kansas anymore_ kept replaying in his mind.

By some miracle, the tornado never touched down. The black clouds move rapidly away; the winds reversed and the temperature dropped dramatically. Pelted with stinging, cold drops of water, he laughed with relief and at his stupidity; then went back into the cabin to liberate the ladies and Matt; only to be roundly chastised by both women. The phrase 'getting ripped a new one' came to his mind.

A few more storms came through late afternoon and evening, though nothing like the first and put a damper on any more outdoor plans, but no one seemed bothered. Instead, Susan and Colleen whipped up a batch of tortilla soup and when several teenaged cousins showed up between storms to coerce Matt into hanging out; Susan suggested a game of Trivial Pursuit. They had the original version and a new version so everybody had a fair chance to win but Logan trounced them all! For a guy who supposedly had significant memory loss, it was amazing the things that were stored in his memory. Susan joked that it wouldn't surprise her if he actually had a PhD in something.

Packing up the following morning, Susan commented "It's been such a great visit, but I'm so ready to go home."

"You know, Sue, this wouldn't be half-bad a place to live someday."

"You think?"

"I'm serious."

"I believe you. Are you saying you don't want me to sell the ranch?"

"Nah. You gotta do what you need to do, but" he grinned smuggly "wouldn't it just chap _somebody's_ ass to know that I was living on the ranch."

She had a look of bittersweet amusement, "Well, if they'd ever found his body and buried him, I'm sure he'd turn over in his grave."

"With my luck, he'd probably come back to haunt me."

_**To be continued….**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: The usual**

**Authors Notes: This might be a first; posting three new sections in one weekend. Y'all will notice the sections are much smaller than my first ones and I think the action will be picking up as things go along, but remember it is a romance/drama story. For those of you who know your obstetrics,I took some libertieswith some timing and I do know it was too soon.**

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Feet up on the desk, leaning back on two chair legs, Logan was deeply engrossed in a book. He sensed Scott coming into his office but he didn't get the book put out of sight fast enough.

"Hey Logan, can you..." He paused briefly noting the book, titled: _What to Expect When You're Expecting; _that Logan put aside. "Why are you reading that?"

"Cause I can" Logan answered sarcastically and dropped it in a drawer.

Scott got curious grin on his face. "Is Susan..."

He cut him off sharply. "Well, I sure as hell ain't!" Moderating his edginess, "Yeah, she is and we'd both appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself."

"OK. Why? I mean, this is good news, isn't it?"

His attitude mellowed. "Yeah it is. Hey, between you and me, I'd shout it from the rooftops but she wants to keep it quiet until she gets past the first trimester or something like that."

"When's that?"

"Hell if I know. She's scheduled for a- what did she call it- an ultrasound on the fifteenth; said we'd know then."

Scott shook his head and laughed.

He scowled, "What's so funny?"

"Oh man! Just the thought of Wolverine being a parent; it's not something I can picture."

"That makes two of us, bub. By the way, wha-da-ya want?"

"Oh yeah; can you help me test new security features around the grounds?"

"Sure. When?"

"Tonight? It's a new infrared intruder detection system."

"Cool. I'll get with you after dark. Hey, Scooter just keep your mouth shut about the baby, please."

"No problem Logan. See you tonight. Hey, congratulations!"

Logan just grunted and went back to reading. What Scott didn't see was the huge grin on his face.

Conversely, Susan was even less successful at keeping her pregnancy under wraps. Neither Paula at the hospital nor Electra at School bought into her 'oh it's just a stomach virus' excuse. When she returned from the Labor Day weekend holiday, she had a really rough day at School. Just plain tired and nauseated, she drifted through the day and Logan had come by her office a couple of times, which was not his usual habit. Electra had overheard him admonishing her to take it easy and ask if she'd eaten anything and then heard her tell him to quit acting like a mother-hen.

"Good Lord, I'm just pregnant! It's not an illness, Logan" she complained very quietly, but not quietly enough. "Let me finish up my work."

"Yes ma'am" he said and kissed her on the forehead before leaving to coach after school soccer practice.

Electra began talking to herself in Spanish and she knew Susan heard.

"Electra?" Susan called to her assistant in Spanish.

"Si."

"You overheard Logan and me just now, si?"

"Oh no, I didn't hear a thing" Electra lied with a sweet smile on her face. "Miha, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so nosy; I really guessed, though. This is wonderful; you and Logan are going to have a bebe. When?" Electra was completely elated though had begun to suspect something even before Labor Day because Susan had not been up to her usual energetic self when they went running in the mornings.

"This spring" she answered in English. "Electra, please don't say anything to anyone yet. I want to get to twelve weeks."

"You're worried. Has anything been wrong?"

"Oh no; except for feeling sleepy all the time, nauseated most of the day, can't button my pants, everything has been perfectly normal. But at forty one, you know."

Electra embraced her and nodded knowingly. "How many weeks are you now?"

"Seven or eight, I think."

"Ay yi yi. How can I keep my mouth shut for another month?"

"I'm sure you'll manage. You didn't say anything when Logan confided in you and Vic about my engagement ring and all that."

"You probably can't keep it from Charles." Electra warned.

"He wouldn't even broach the subject until Logan or I did so it's not an issue" she said confidently. "I just don't want everybody knowing until I'm as sure as possible everything's going to be ok; and truthfully Electra, I'm trying to keep _my_ hopes from getting too high. The other thing is, and you are going to think I'm hopelessly old-fashioned, but, I don't think it's a good example to set for all these impressionable teenagers. I'd rather tell everyone after the wedding."

"I don't think you're old-fashioned at all, but I don't think you're going to fool anyone."

"I wouldn't try. If the issue's raised, I'll meet it straight on." A student came into the office for a physical, cutting their conversation short.

Paula thought Susan was completely nuts. Over lunch they hashed the whole thing over.

"I've gotta tell you, girlfriend, at your age you're supposed to be launching kids not starting them."

"Tell me something new" she replied, rolling her eyes "and don't you dare ask me if I'm aware of what causes this by now."

Paula laughed. "I wouldn't but I guess I'm never going to collect on my bet."

"Huh?"

"Last March I bet you a girl's night out that, lets see how did I phrase it; something about within three weeks you'd be hooked up with Logan."

"Oh yeah, I really did forget; sorry. I guess a girls' night is_ out_ for the next several months."

"No kidding. Honestly Sue, I'm happy for you two. I was blown away when you two got engaged; I_ really_ didn't think he was the type."

"Paula, you're dancing around here." She understood her good friend and longtime colleague. "No, this baby wasn't planned and yes, I did debate not keeping it and yes, I'm concerned about my age. Anything else?"

"How does_ he_ feel about it?"

"I think he's very happy. I only found out over Labor Day weekend and I told him right away. Paula, the look on his face was just priceless and he's been really sweet and attentive ever since."

Paula's look suggested skepticism. "How far along are you?"

"About eight weeks, I think. I've got my first prenatal with Lance and an ultrasound scheduled on the fifteenth."

"Lance Weinberg? How'd you get in so fast?"

"I called him directly. I wasn't about to mess with his staff and besides he's a neighbor."

"How come Lance?"

"He's one of the few around that I can trust not to do all that new testing the Mutant Registration Act requires."

"Crap, I forgot about that; Logan's mutant."

"Uh huh, and while I want to know if the baby carries the trait, I don't want it reported."

"These damned new laws are just beyond anything. If we thought the civil rights issues in the 1960's were horrendous, I don't think we've seen anything yet."

"No kidding. I don't even want to talk about it."

Everything was taking longer on the fifteenth than Logan had anticipated or at least it seemed that way. Susan had scheduled her ultrasound at four and he was supposed to meet her there. The kids at School were restless to downright disobedient and he broken up two fights. Next his computer kept freezing up and Scott was on his ass about stuff that he considered inconsequential. It just went on and on. To put a final cap on an increasingly bad day, it was pouring down rain and he'd driven his Harley. She'd be so pleased to have him show up resembling a drowned rat. He thought about borrowing Scott's Mazda and then decided against it because he didn't feel like getting all the grief that went along with borrowing something from Mr. Tight-Ass. He must have been projecting his thoughts because passing Charles' office, he called to him.

"Logan, may I be of some assistance?"

Logan stuck his head inside the door and was about to decline then changed his mind.

"Yeah. Can I borrow one of your cars?"

"Of course. Which one?"

He shrugged. "The 'vette's fine. I'm only headed over to meet Susan; won't be too long."

Charles reached into his desk drawer and tossed a set of keys at him. "Take your time."

"Thanks" he responded with a look of relief.

Charles smiled broadly to himself when he was sure Logan was completely out of range. He'd not openly betray his knowledge of Logan's thoughts knowing him intelligent enough to realize he was probably aware and Charles was sensitive enough to realize that he was never going to share personal things until absolutely necessary. Logan's self- protective instincts would always override everything and considering his past, it was an expected and understood reaction.

Of course with the rain, traffic was a nightmare and he ended up fifteen minutes late. It turned out not to be an issue because Susan hadn't finished with her last patient.

In the small dimly lit examining room, Tina, the ultrasound technician, prepped Susan's belly with gel. She was a chatty, friendly sort whom Susan enjoyed and Logan did his best to ignore. Truth be told, the tech had a voice that sounded to him like chalk scraping on a blackboard. Combine that irritation with his phobia's concerning anything medical, and a generally crummy day anyway, his stress levels were way up there. Stress for him equaled grouchy, obnoxious attitude. Susan warned him to get over himself and he gave her one of his threatening expressions but she just laughed and told him she loved him. When she said those words it usually short-circuited his foul mood.

Tina addressed them, "If I can tell, do you want to know the sex of your baby?"

Susan said No. Logan said Yes.

Tina giggled. "Ok. Here's what I'll do" she was addressing Logan. "I'll write it down." Tina keyed in the computer with one hand and ran the Doppler across Susan's belly. "Here we go." She expertly found a baby and keyed in audio to hear the heartbeat.

The sound startled Logan. "What's that?"

"That's her heartbeat." Susan said before Tina answered.

"Oh… Her?" he responded.

"I can hope."

Tina continued the scan, taking and recording measurements, checking formation of the fetus and placenta. Something made her slow the Doppler and she ran it over one spot a few times. "Dr. Harris, do multiples run in your family?"

"Not really. Why do you ask?"

"Multiples? As in more than one?" Logan asked.

"Yes. I see two." Tina adjusted the computer screen so they could see clearly.

"Oh my gosh!" Susan laughed. "No wonder I've felt_ so_ pregnant so soon." She reached for his hand and he got one of his _no shit_ expressions and breathed "Whoa!"

"Look what you did, Bright Eyes!" Susan's voice reflected the amazement she was feeling.

"Twins?" He squeezed her hand momentarily at a loss for words. _Oh man, Twins!_

"Are you certain you don't want to know the sex?" Tina asked Susan again.

"Oh for heaven's sake; why not?"

Tina moved the Doppler around more and actually pressed on Susan's belly to manipulate the babies' positions. "Now you realize I have to give you the usual disclaimer." Tina spoke jovially. "But, my reputation for getting this right is about ninety eight percent. It looks like a little girl here on the left and...if I can just make baby number two shift just a little...Oh yes, almost certainly a boy."

"Oh yeah" Logan finally found his voice "one of each." He couldn't help grinning with pride. _Who's the stud,_ he thought!

Susan began to cry with joy. Tina pushed another button on her computer and a picture of the babies printed out. She handed it to Logan. "Here's your first baby picture."

The reality of it all began to set in over dinner that evening. Susan expressed concerns about carrying twins at her age and continuing her current schedule. She was high-risk with a singleton because of her age, but now she was _really_ high risk. Logan was still just trying to get used to their pregnancy and the reality of twins was mind blowing. He pulled out the ultrasound picture and studied it but really couldn't figure out how to tell anything from it. Susan took it and then pointed out details. "If you say so" he answered, still not seeing much.

Settling in for the night they discussed letting everybody know. Actually, Logan brought it up since she was still reluctant; fearful that she'd still miscarry. He convinced her it was finally time to clue everybody in and confessed that Scott knew prompting her to admit that nearly everyone at the hospital knew as well as Electra.

"Let's just post the ultrasound picture on the bulletin board" he suggested. "Here's what we can say, hell, I even calligraphy it for ya: Proud parents to be, James Logan and Susan Harris-Logan announce the pending arrival of ... We need to figure out names."

"That's tacky. Don't you dare."

"What? Come on it's practical; saves from having to go through it fifty times."

"Ok. I'll admit there is a smidgen of practicality. But honey, it's just so... oh, it just offends my sensibilities. If you do it I'll deny any knowledge of your activities."

"Ok Miss Moneypenny" he mocked.

"Logan honey, 007 you ain't. I love ya, but Pierce Brosnan, well let's just say he's in a different category. "

"I'm _so_ hurt and depressed." He settled back into the pillows and became serious." Sue, I'd like to call our baby girl Colleen."

"Really? After my aunt?"

"Yep. I love that aunt of yours. She's one woman to be admired."

"That sweet of you, Bright Eyes. Colleen...Colleen Elizabeth Logan. That sounds pretty."

"Where'd the Elizabeth come from?"

"Your mother, of course."

He didn't say anything and hadn't considered his mother in the equation. He hadn't contacted her since he'd met with her in July and didn't plan to and completely forgot that Susan had invited his mother and sister to their wedding a few weeks away. "Colleen Elizabeth does sound kinda nice" he finally admitted.

"I think Collin James for our baby boy" she suggested.

"Where'd James come from?" he asked feigning ignorance.

She smacked him on the arm. "Just some guy I know."

"Just some guy, huh?" He wrapped his arms around her "Well, come here and kiss that some guy."

She snuggled in close. "I'll do more than that, Bright Eyes."

Tacky or not, he did take the ultrasound Polaroid and tack it up on the bulletin board. In the margins he neatly lettered the twins' names and estimated date of arrival.

_**more to come**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: The usual.**

**Authors Notes: Ok, I've discovered I love writing medical stuff. I have researched and this is pretty accurate. I hope I've written so any body who hasn't watched ER or Scrubs can understand. **

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Logan could sense the fast moving something behind him but before he could react, an SUV sideswiped him and his Harley. The impact drove him and the bike into a concrete highway barrier. The bike stopped and he hurtled forward, helmet-less, headfirst onto the cement freeway and his last thought before blackness overcame him was _This is gonna hurt._ Sometime later he became vaguely aware of a paramedic securing him to a backboard. Snippets of conversation sounded muffled and distorted.

**I can't believe this guy's still alive. Did ya see the bike? It's trashed. **

**This guy's brains are probably scrambled; got blood coming from the right ear and nose. Why in God's name don't these morons wear helmets?**

**Yeah, it's sad. Wha-da-ya you got for vitals? There lookin' ok, though I don't know why. He's not as torn up as he should be. What do ya make of that?**

**Freakin' miracle, I guess. I give up questioning why some of 'em come out ok and some up 'em end up in a body bag.**

Logan opened his eyes; nothing but a blur. A face came closer to his line of sight-make that two of the same face.

**Hey fella, don't move around. You've been in an accident. Can you understand me?**

"Yeah."

**What hurts?**

"My...head, neck; everything."

**Do you have any numbness or tingling?**

It took him a moment "Can't tell."

**What's your name?**

Logan.

**That's it, just Logan?**

He tried to nod, but the neck restraint prevented it. "James Logan" he finally answered, not used to his full name and having problems pulling thoughts together.

**Do you know where you are?**

He had to think about it. "Yeah."

**How old are you?**

"Fifty four."

The paramedics looked concerned because Logan didn't look a day over thirty five; definitely some scrambled gray matter upstairs.

**We're gonna take you to a hospital. Do you have preference?**

"Westchester Memorial; my fiancé's there."

**Ok. She one the nurses?**

"Nah, she's Dr. Harris."

**OK. We'll have you there in no time. Just try to relax.** They hoisted the backboard onto a stretcher and then into the waiting ambulance. The sirens wailed as they struggled to get through the backed- up, morning rush hour traffic. On the ride to the hospital, Logan kept trying to drift out. His head was killing him and he was dizzy. He needed to go into a healing sleep, but the attending paramedic kept rousing him. "I think I'm gonna get sick" he warned!

**Got it covered, sir. **The paramedic expertly shifted the entire backboard to the side and placed a basin right where it need to be just as Logan threw up several times.

About ten minutes out from the hospital, the paramedic couldn't rouse Logan. Grabbing his pen light, the paramedic checked his pupils. **We're going dilated and unequal with the pupils here, Jack** the paramedic spoke loudly to the driver. **BP's dropping and respirations are getting mighty slow. I think we've got a little deteriorating going on.** Of course the paramedic could not know that this was his normal healing mechanism kicking in, except for the unequal pupils; that was definitely the scrambled brains. **I'm, moving this rig as fast as I can. Damned traffic can't move. **As they got closer to the hospital, the paramedic communicated with the ER about Logan's condition. **We've got a white male, approximately thirty five years old, closed head trauma probable neck or back trauma. Patient denies any loss of sensation or movement. Patient exhibited mild confusion. Blood pressure eighty over forty, respirations twelve per minute and shallow. Pupils reactive, but unequal. Possible cerebrospinal fluid draining from ears and nose. Patient vomited four times and become unresponsive for the past eight minutes. We're still three to five minutes out.**

Susan was on duty. What do we have?" she asked Todd, the triage attendant.

"Some idiot on a motorcycle, no helmet; head trauma. Getting shaky on the way in."

He handed over the notes he took from the ambulance crew.

She rolled her eyes. _Here we go again. Patching up another stupid fool who thought he_ _was indestructible_. She made her way to the ambulance entrance, grabbing another doctor along the way. "We've got a deteriorating motorcycle wreck coming in. Care to play God with me?"

"Sure." Dr. Amar Satvik answered whose specialty happened to be neurology.

She briefed him as they waited in the ambulance bay. "The paramedics tell me our patient's gone unresponsive for the past eight minutes."

"Not promising."

The ambulance pulled in and they ran to it. Even though Logan's mouth and nose was covered with a respirator mask, it took Susan about fifteen seconds to figure out who the patient was. She gasped "Oh my God!"

"What's wrong?" Amar asked.

"It's Logan, my fiancé".

The ambulance crew briefed them on Logan's condition: basically unchanged from the last report.

"Take him into Exam four."

Things got very busy in exam four; nurses and doctors all doing their jobs. IV, monitoring equipment, orders for an MRI. "No MRI." Susan shouted about the din.

Amar was shocked, "What are you talking about?"

"Amar, Logan's just a little different." She feared this possibility; having to expose Logan's mutant status and his skeleton. "Stabilize the patient" she ordered and pulled Amar out of the room. Whispering, she clued him in. "Logan's got some...um, some metal replacements."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sue?"

Exasperated, she whispered, "Look he's mutant, ok? It's a very long story and I'm not going into the details, but he has rapid healing powers. The only thing we can do is stabilize, support and wait."

Amar looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Finally, not wanting to deal with legal and ethical issues that surrounded mutants, he said "Ok, whatever you say. You're the expert on mutant medicine, tell me what to do."

"Bless you, Amar."

They went back to exam four where Logan regained consciousness and was struggling.

_Don't you dare eject those claws, _Susan thought. Taking a chance, she bent close and stroked his forehead. "Hey. I'm right here" she said gently

He could make out her blurred image. Her voice was soothing and he quit struggling. "Sue, I can't handle the restraints."

"You've _got_ to be_ good_ for me." She was going to try to minimize exposing him as much as possible and she hoped he understood. "You've got head and neck trauma so you must be immobilized. This is the _normal_ protocol. _Please_ don't fight it." That's not what he wanted to hear and he growled and fought the restraints anew. She got right down in his face and quietly but very firmly gave an ultimatum. "Don't make me sedate you."

He looked at her with hard, angry eyes. She stayed close and smoothed his hair and her touch calmed him some. "I'll make a deal with you," she continued. "Keep it together while I pick the gravel and glass out you and don't flake out on me in the next two hours and I'll get you out of the restraints."

"Ok" he answered. "How bad do I look?"

"Not too bad, all things considered. You're missing part on your right eyebrow and I can see flecks of glass and gravel embedded..."

"I get the idea."

"You're not healing as fast as I'd expect. It might have something to do with a cerebral contusion"

He looked puzzled so she explained "I think you bruised your brain, but with your metal skull, there's no way to confirm it. I think if I cleaned out some of the abrasions and cuts they'll heal faster."

Logan's healing ability was amazingly rapid for one injury at a time but a more complex injury or multiple injuries added to the healing rate exponentially. So if his body was trying to compensate for massive head trauma, less serious wounds became a lower priority.

"That's going to hurt, eh?"

"Relative to what?"

A nurse brought over a tray-table laden with everything needed to clean his wounds. In his peripheral vision, he spotted syringes. "What's that for?"

"Lidocaine to numb you and saline to clean you up" the nurse answered pertly.

"I'll handle this, Renee" she told the nurse. "Logan, I'm going to numb you in a couple of places and I think that'll do it. If you feel like you need more, just say so." He closed his eyes and winced as she injected the Lidocaine near his eyebrow, then near his ear and finally his jaw. "I'm going to have to shave off some of your sideburns. Do you want me to even both sides?"

She wished she had a camera to capture the look on his face. "You gotta do _what_?"

"Sorry babe, I need to be able to see what I'm doing. It grows back."

"Geez! Whatever. Yeah, even it up. Shit!"

Finishing up, she commented, "You look like a cover boy for GQ! I like it." She left sideburns at earlobe level; right in style, actually!

Completely unimpressed by her opinion, he just grunted.

As soon as Susan began to pick out the glass and gravel from his right forehead, cheeks and jaw, the wounds began to heal right before her eyes. She kept talking to him as she worked to distract him and to assess how he was holding up. He winced and gasped as she plucked out some larger pieces of gravel. "More Lidocaine" she asked?

Voice a strained whisper; he answered "It's ok."

One final piece of glass, lodged deep in muscle in his neck, hurt enough to bring tears to his eyes as Susan tried to finesse it out. "I'm sorry, baby." She sounded pained as she worked.

"Just hurry up."

"I've got to be careful with this one it's close to your jugular. Don't talk." In another moment, she had the shard firmly in forceps and held up the nearly inch long spike of glass so he could see it. "Do you know how lucky you are? Had this thing been just a few millimeters to the left, you could have bled to death."

"Probably wouldn't have" He appeared sanguine but then suddenly went pale and his field of vision reduced to a narrow tunnel.

"You ok?"

Her voice sounded distant and he could only mumble weakly "Head hurts again" and he closed his eyes Susan grabbed her penlight and checked his pupils. They reacted sluggishly to the light. The room spun and he felt sick again "I'm gonna puke."

"I need some help in here" she shouted knowing she lacked the physical strength to maneuver him strapped to the backboard onto his side by herself. Renee, the nurse, was there in an instant but with not enough time to grab for a basin, both expertly stepped aside as he vomited onto the floor.

He managed a very weak "Sorry"

"It's ok; kind of goes with the job description" Susan quipped. She almost said 'wet clean up in aisle four', but thought better; too unprofessional. "Renee, I've got things balanced here for a moment; how about some Promethazine for my patient?" Renee nodded and pushed a pre-measured amount of the anti-emetic into his IV. It didn't take but a few minutes for him to feel the nausea abate.

Before long, his natural healing was trying to kick in and he needed to sleep, even though that was contrary to normal head injury protocols. As he drifted into a healing coma-like state, Susan wiped the remaining dried blood from his face and neck. The lacerations and road rash had all but disappeared and only a little redness remained.

She studied his cleanly shaven face. He _was_ extraordinarily handsome. His features were nearly symmetrical and without the mutton chop sideburns to cover his features, high cheekbones and charming dimples became obvious. She meant it when she said he appeared worthy of the cover of GQ magazine. He'd be so pissed if he thought anyone thought of him that way. That tough-scruffy- dangerous-mean look he maintained was a key part of his shield against all the pain and ugliness he'd faced in his life.

Later, Dr. Satvik got Logan a private room up in neurology and she tried to communicate that but he wasn't conscious enough to understand. After she was sure he was safely settled, Susan called Charles to let him know what had happened. Then she asked to be transferred to Electra and asked her to fax the medical notes from Logan's injuries he'd suffered at Liberty Island. She wanted some guidelines based on past medical history how to handle him and records confirmed that leaving him be, coupled with basic support measures (fluids, oxygen) would be the best and quickest route to his recovery.

Next came the paperwork; a police report because it was an apparent hit-and-run motor vehicle accident; special hospital report because of the police report; another special hospital report because she treated a mutant, just on and on and on. _Wait 'til billing realizes he's_ _uninsured,_ she thought though she knew once all the connections were made, that is; they're about to be married, professional courtesy would save the day. Those bills would simply be dumped from billing data bases.

Two hours later when through with her shift she headed up to neurology. She pulled up a chair at his bedside. "I'm here." She squeezed his hand and thought she felt a slight response. In the twelve hours that he was comatose, Dr Satvik came by a few times. Charles and Scott came by and she had Scott help her loosen Logan's restraints. She wasn't going to ask Dr. Satvik to break anymore protocols than he already had and knew he just didn't want to know why Logan _couldn't_ break his neck or back.

Around eleven p.m. she was nearly drowsing in the chair at his bedside when she noticed his respiration and blood pressure normalizing on the monitoring equipment and less than five minutes later, he opened his eyes. "Hey, glad your here." His voice seemed strong but more gravely than normal.

She smiled with relief. "I'm glad your back. How do you feel?"

"Pretty good... a little stiff."

"How's your head feel?"

"Ok. How about getting me out of here" he asked as he began to sit up?

She tried to push him back, but he would have none of it. "Logan, you've just survived a serious head injury. You may feel fine, but..."

"Sue, I'm not staying here. I'll go back to the infirmary at School but I'm _not_ staying."

"Ok, as long as you don't mind walking out of here in that little hospital gown." She had the trump card.

Logan looked down at himself. "Where are my clothes?"

"What wasn't shredded had to be cut off."

He looked highly irritated. "Fine then, I'll just walk outta here with my ass hangin' out."

"Will you stop acting like an ass! Just chill until seven tomorrow, please."

"No way! I'm gettin outta here. Go steal me some scrubs."

"Steal them yourself."

"Dammit Susan, help me out here."

Susan thought about it for a minute. She knew fully well that he was going to sneak or sign out of the hospital at the first opportunity. "Ok, I'll get you out of here but I'm telling you, it's against your doctors' medical advice."

Logan tried to stand and was promptly slammed with waves of vertigo and started to lose balance and pitch forward. She grabbed for him to keep from falling flat on his face and he had the sense to let himself sink to his knees.

"Oh, yes, I'm going to sign you out A.M.A; when hell freezes over! Listen to me, James Logan; I saw the police and ambulance reports. Do you know your head left a dent in the cement barrier? Without that metal skull of yours, they would have just hosed your brains down the sewer or worse, I might be wiping the drool off your chin for the rest of your life. How can I make this any clearer; you've had a _severe_ head injury and it's gonna take time to completely heal. Please just stay until tomorrow morning. Give yourself a few more hours."

With the vertigo turning his stomach over and over, and his head starting to pound again, he had no choice but to agree with her- at least for a while. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember having a serious head injury. Maybe these things did take longer to get over. He let her lead him back to bed. Suddenly very serious concern crossed his mind. "Susan, what happens if I have a nightmare? Nobody around here can deal with that."

Worry and fatigue etched her face. "You've got a point. I don't know..." she thought for a while. "Lay back down and promise me you won't move; I'm going to get those scrubs." He barely nodded, fearful that movement would set off more head pain or make him sick again. She returned a few minutes later with the promised scrubs but he dozed off. Deciding to bide time and knowing she needed sleep; she curled up in the empty bed. They slept through until eight the next morning when Dr. Satvik, beginning his rounds woke them and signed Logan's discharge papers.

Logan tried to get back to work the next day but Susan wouldn't allow it. He tried intimidating her and she laughed. Then he tried the grouch-act but he told him to quit being so snarky. He tried reasoning but she informed him his reasoning was unsound. He tried pouting, but she completely ignored it.

"I fuckin give up!" he yelled.

"That's the point Logan. Give it up for a little longer and heal completely……and _quit_ using that _word_!"

"What word?" He didn't appreciate her trying to change the subject. "I'm ok."

"Probably so, but since I can't do an MRI to prove it, you're stuck."

"God dammit, I'm fine!"

"Logan, just get over it. What's one day to chill?"

He growled and flipped on the TV muttering more choice words under his breath. "I'm bored." he said

"Oh waahhh! Recuperating men are all alike" she exclaimed.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out. I've got to do my last shift at the hospital" her tone was sharp. "Logan, _behave_ yourself."

"Or _what_?"

"I'll keep you med-down for the first half of next week."

"Yeah _right_."

"Try me."

He was about to respond with something obnoxious but thought better because he knew she meant business and it turned out her instincts were right.

**And things will get interesting...**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Disclaimer: The usual._**

**_Authors Notes: I've broken things down into much smaller segments again. It's much easier to edit that way. Thanks for the comments and encouragement on the previous postin__g_**.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

He'd been watching TV on and off all evening. Finally fed up with stupid TV and bored, he decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. On the way back he began to feel strange. He couldn't put a finger on just what was wrong; just a feeling of unease, a little weak. Making his way up the driveway and into the house his head began to hurt, really hurt, as sharp pain sliced through his brain. Almost immediately he felt dizzy and lay down on the couch expecting to feel fine shortly. Instead the dizziness progressed and the entire room seemed to spin. He closed his eyes against it, but that didn't help and began feeling sick to his stomach. He figured it best to make for the bathroom and sitting up made him know he better get there fast. Hugging walls all the way, he made it and then dropped to his knees, hung onto the toilet for balance, bathed in a cold sweat; he tried to fight the inevitable but soon lost. As suddenly as the attack came, it passed leaving him feeling overwhelmingly sleepy. Maybe he did have more healing to do inside his head. Moving very slowly, he stripped off his clothes and tucked himself into bed and it wasn't two minutes before he was sound asleep. The following morning he felt fine and decided the whole thing was a fluke.

Logan hadn't give his new clean- shaven look much thought until he went back to School. At first he couldn't figure out why he was getting funny looks from his middle school-aged gym class but since twelve and thirteen year old boys were in a group unto themselves, he ignored them. Electra teased him, something in Spanish he probably didn't want to translate because knowing her it was funny but on the raunchy side. Charles mentioned something about how he seemed to look particularly 'sharp'. Whatever that meant?

It took the three Musketeers, Marie, Jubilee and Kitty to really get on his nerves. Headed for his lunch break, he passed the threesome in the hallway and the girls simultaneously stopped dead in their tracks when they saw him. Jubilee, who had a huge crush on him, looked like she was going to swoon as Kitty giggled uncontrollably. Marie, the one person he gave credit for having her wits about her most of the time, jaw dropped open. "Wow! Logan!" was all she could say.

He wasn't too certain whether they were voicing approval or something else and wasn't comfortable with the attention nor did he think it was appropriate coming from them. He glared back at them and spoke with his gruffest most authoritarian tone, "Excuse me, ladies!"

Marie found her voice, being the least intimidated by him. She knew more about Logan's thought processes than probably even Susan but still stuttered "Logan! I mean…you look…great. I mean really ho…" She almost said _hot_ and that would have been stepping over the line big time. She quickly substituted_ handsome_ and then turned about ten shades of crimson realizing she still crossed the line. Even if every girl over thirteen thought Logan was the hottest thing at Xavier's School for the Gifted, there was no way they wanted that thought broadcast. God! He was one of the teachers. He was a grown up and like, really old, even if he didn't look it.

The other two girls, seeing the whole thing spiraling even more out of control, grabbed Marie by each arm and bolted down the corridor toward their next class. Jubilee thought she was speaking quietly, and was for normal hearing, but of course, Logan's hearing was better than normal. "He reminds of someone. Oh man, who am I thinking of? Come on Kit, who am I thinking of? We just watched a movie the other night."

Kitty thought for a moment, "Oh yeah; Someone Like You. Oh my gosh, you're right; Logan looks a lot like Hugh Jackman."

"You two are c-r-a-z-y." Marie spelled out the last word.

"Are not" Kitty and Jubilee chimed together. "Are you blind Rogue-girl? He looks so much like Hugh Jackman it's scary."

"You two are scary. Logan looks….just like Logan. 'Sides y'all shouldn't tease him."

The other girls laughed out loud. "Who's the one that called him hot right to his face" Jubilee retorted?

"I did not. I called him handsome." Marie turned red again.

"You almost called him hot." Kitty defended Jubilee.

"Almost does NOT count." Marie was getting irritated.

The escalating argument was interrupted by the Professor as he wheeled into the classroom. He 'heard' everything they'd said and all the thoughts they were projecting. He gave them a stern look and quietly suggested they remain after class.

Logan heard the entire exchange and chuckled to himself as he made his way to lunch. Over a burger and fries, he started thinking. _Just who the hell did the girls say I look_ _like? God,_ _some teeny bopper heartthrob. How lame could ya get? Better ask Sue._ _No friggin' way_! _I'll stir up something I'll never hear the end of._

Two days later he had another sick headache attack. He just dismissed his last class for the day and was heading back to his office and started to feel unsteady. Approaching the doorway, he was racked with intense pain in each temple and was forced to steady himself on the doorframe; then made his way to the desk and laid his head down on the desk top. It wasn't but a moment longer before vertigo hit with vengeance and it didn't matter whether he shut his eyes or not; everything spun. How he made it across his office to the lavatory, he had no idea and if his teeth hadn't been adamantium implants, he'd have probably broken them as the fell against the toilet being violently sick to his stomach.

If he didn't have a sense of respect or urgency about what was happening, when he began hemorrhaging from his nose, he definitely decided something was really wrong. Real fear crept over him as he fought vertigo, brutal head pain and rivers of vomit and blood pouring into the toilet he hung over. Something like this wasn't supposed to happen to him. The siege passed and struggling with bone-weariness, made his way to the med-lab where Hank was on duty and he was grateful for that bit of luck. He had every confidence in Electra, but since she and Susan had become close friends, he knew Electra would find some way to clue her in and he just didn't want to burden Susan right now.

Hank took one look at a pale and blood stained Logan and knew something was very wrong. After giving Logan a thorough going over, he decided it was definitely more than post-concussion issues and raised the possibility that memory-chips might be causing the problem and wanted to perform an endoscopic and CT scan. Of course Logan didn't want the hear any of that and responded with an emphatic "No way!"

Hank had a hunch that something had happened to the memory-chips implanted into Logan years ago and felt he'd probably suffer more of these attacks and come the conclusion that he'd have to be treated. In the interim, Hank prescribed something for the headaches and nausea and showed him how to inject the medications. Logan just hoped beyond hope that the whole thing would go away. With the wedding only five days away if he had to deal with it he wanted to deal with it afterwards.

The next day, over breakfast, Susan asked him whether he planned on replacing his motorcycle.

He didn't answer right away because he hadn't made a firm decision yet. "Don't think so; kinda thought I might buy a truck."

She raised her eyebrows in question and he thought he'd read disapproval from her. "What?" he said defensively. "I've got my eye on a Dodge Ram 2500."

"Oh." There was a surprised, skeptical tone in her voice. "Why a truck? With the twins coming wouldn't an SUV be a better option?"

An SUV just wasn't going to do it for him. He wasn't now and wasn't ever going to be Mr. Suburbanite. "Have you seen the extended-cab version, Sue?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well, it's got plenty of room for baby seats...and I could really use the cargo space."

"For what?"

"Hauling stuff."

"What stuff?" She was purposely being obtuse.

"Stuff; firewood, equipment for the training camp, it'll pull your horse trailer. Besides it looks good."

"Ah ha! Now we get to the real issue, it's gotta look just so."

"Well yeah! But it is practical, too. What's your problem?" He was getting irritated.

She laughed. "No problem at all Bright Eyes. You can buy whatever you want." Letting him off the hook she asked if they could look at one.

"Sure" he answered. "Tonight?"

"Yes. But you have to take me out to dinner first."

He grinned. "It's a date, babe."

They had a nice supper at their favorite Italian restaurant even though he was fidgety through the meal. Earlier that day he'd used the internet to search for exactly what he wanted. (He was becoming computer literate) He couldn't remember ever buying a brand new vehicle. He'd bought his last motorcycle second hand after Scott had raised hell over him _borrowing_ his so frequently. The motorcycle he had before that was 'procured' by methods that were just a bit shady though he hadn't outright stolen it. He'd won it in a cage fight but he had no control whether the fights were evenly matched or not.

One hour later, twelve grand down and twenty grand in debt, Logan was the proud owner of a fully loaded, sleek black Dodge Ram Laramie 2500. The dealer said it would be ready the next day. They needed overnight to install some of the sport options that he'd chosen. Well, if he was going to do something, it wasn't going to be half-assed. Besides wasn't being in debt part of being an established member of society? What's next, a 401K? Was it too soon to pre-register the twins for Harvard? Mr. Suburbanite, well maybe!

Anyone who didn't know Logan well, and that was most people, wouldn't be able to tell how psyched up he was about his new toy. A stranger would have read his expression or body language as smart-assed. Susan knew the glint in his eyes and that smirk on his lips was has 'public' happy face. Sure no one was in earshot, she teased him. "Now all you need is a dog, a gun rack and a confed...; no, scratch the Confederate flag, for your truck."

Logan snorted. "I don't do guns but the dog, now that's an option. Don't we go by the pound a way back?"

"Oh you're too much." She laughed out loud.

"A red Maple Leaf flag wouldn't draw much attention, eh" he added.

Driving back home, they passed by a Volvo dealership and she asked "Hon, can we stop in there?"

"Where?" He hadn't been paying close attention to the scenery, instead concentrated on threading his way through the Tappan Zee Bridge construction zone mess.

"The Volvo place. Can you exit and go back, please?"

"Ok. What for?"

"Because you've got me thinking. Baby seats won't fit in the Jag and it's going to be a very tight fit in this, especially when Matt moves in" she was referring to her Volvo station wagon.

"Don't you want to do some research on the 'net first" he queried? He was now a firm believer in buying services saving all kinds of aggravation.

"No. I've been coming to this dealership and service center for ten years."

"Ok." he answered and whipped into the parking area.

Another hour later, Susan had worked out a trade for her car and ordered a metallic gray XC-90 Volvo SUV; loaded of course. Between the two of them, in about three and a half hour's time, they'd managed to acquire about ninety-thousand dollars in debt.

_**Keep reading….**_


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"What's your schedule look like today, Bright eyes?" Susan inquired over morning coffee.

"I'll be done by lunch time. Scott's taking over 'til we get back. Why?"

"I don't know if I can finish things up as easily as you. Somebody's got to be here when the family starts to arrive."

"I can handle that" he volunteered. "Where's everybody staying?"

"Here. Aunt Colleen and Maureen will stay in the den. Can you set up the sleep sofa?"

He nodded.

"Bridget and Margaret are taking over Travis' room….." her pager phone interrupted. She noted the caller ID, the hospital, and dialed back. "Dr. Harris here…." She rolled her eyes and heaved a silent sigh "Ok. I'll be there in about forty minutes. Do what you can but remember this patient has a DNR order."

"What's up?" he asked after she clicked off the phone.

"Remember the little girl I've been treating with Spinocerebellar Ataxia? She's just been admitted with respiratory problems."

He grimaced. "Sorry. What's gonna happen?"

"I honestly don't know." She looked pained. "Nothing good I'm afraid. Gotta fly. I'll be home as soon as I can." She kissed him and headed for a fast shower.

He swallowed down the rest of his coffee and then headed out the door to School. He bet himself that Susan was going to run really late. Anytime one of her patients had an unusual problem, she always put them first and patient problems always seemed to crop up at the most inconvenient times. It was damned annoying, but it went with the territory; pediatricians did not do nine to five but neither did he when a mission came up.

Logan had been running a debate with himself over the last day or so about whether he'd move back to his old room at the school for the day or so before the wedding. Susan's two aunts and two cousins were coming for the wedding. Being the only male 'trapped' in a houseful of emotional women was an experience he could take a pass on. Besides wasn't it supposed to bad luck or something to see the bride right before the wedding? Where did that bullshit come from?

Between soccer and self-defense classes, Vic Marquez cornered Logan in the corridor. "Amigo, esta noche a las ocho, Casa Marquez! Be there or be square."

"Say what?" Logan questioned, surprised.

"Bachelor party, my place."

Logan put his hands together and bowed in a gesture of thanks. "You have no idea what you're saving me from. I'm gonna get killed for this but it's a less painful way to go than being talked to death by a houseful of women."

Vic shot Logan a questioning look.

"Susie's Aunts and Cousins are staying at our place" he explained.

"Sheesh!. Say no more."

Logan finished up his last class and got back to the house a little before one in the afternoon. Susan had left a voice mail apprising him of her timetable, which was unpredictable. He just won the bet with himself. Her unpredictable timetable might be a bit of a problem with his plans for tonight. The original plan did not include a bachelor party. Well, he'd burn that bridge when he got to it.

Colleen, Maureen, Bridget and Margaret arrived in a rented SUV around three in the afternoon and lavished enough hugs and kisses on him to last the decade. The comments on his 'new look' got old pretty quickly too. For cryin out loud, all he did was shave. What's the big deal? Would Susan ever finish up? He was becoming just a little overloaded with the touchy-feely over the top stuff. Yeah, it was appropriate for the occasion but that didn't mean he liked it. He was really going to need that bachelor party tonight.

It wasn't too long before another SUV pulled up in front of the house and he was certain his jaw dropped open and his look of shock was probably glaringly obvious. Out stepped his sister, Julia who in turn, aided his mother, Elizabeth from the passenger side. _Holy shit!_ he said to himself. _Oh, yeah, Susie did send them an invitation. Damn_, _why didn't she tell me they were coming?_ Logan was absolutely glued to the spot where he stood by the front door too surprised to figure out what to do.

The women proceeded up the driveway, Elizabeth looking regal and calm while Julia looked slightly pained, a bit like a spoiled child who did not want to be dragged away on a family outing. Elizabeth approached and speaking in French, extended her hand, "You look well. We're so pleased to be here."

Logan swallowed hard, trying to compose himself and not say something asinine. "Merci" he managed. He glanced at Julia who gave one of those smiles where the lips smiled but the eyes conveyed something else altogether. _Same to ya, princess,_ he thought.

"I'll get your bags." Logan said after shaking Elizabeth's hand. Now he really was going to need that bachelor party; starting right now would be good. Susan hadn't told him where to put his mother and sister so the only option was Matt's room.

Next came awkward (at least it seemed that way to him) introductions between his side of the family to Susan's side of the family. _When will Susan get here?_ he thought to himself for the fiftieth time in the past fifteen minutes. He needn't have panicked because Colleen read his extreme discomfort and did what she does best. Warm and sociable, Colleen took the initiative with Elizabeth and Julia. Elizabeth seemed to respond well to Colleen's overtures though Julia was a bit more standoffish, but tried to follow the tone her mother set.

When Susan got home shortly thereafter, Logan wasn't sure whether he wanted to kiss her or wring her neck. Leaving the women to gossip and commiserate about their flights from wherever to New York, Logan bolted for her as she pulled into the driveway. "Why in bloody hell didn't you tell me Elizabeth was coming?"

"What?" She could tell he was more than just a little peeved.

"You heard me. Don't ya think I should know about things like this?"

"Logan, the RSVP's have been sitting on the desk for a month."

"You should've told me."

She quickly saw where this was going. He had chosen to skip out when the invitations were written and rarely, if ever, checked any mail. Until just recently, he never got any mail but it did make her wonder how he was going to cope with his share of the bills? House training the Wolverine still had a ways to go! "For heaven's sake Logan, I did tell you! I'm sorry you didn't pay attention." There was a bit of scolding sarcasm in her tone.

"Don't throw that back on me" he spat.

"I'm not throwing anything back on you." She wasn't exactly in the best mood either, as stressed as any woman would be forty eight hours before her wedding and now emotionally wrung out over her patient, who was not expected to recover.

"Yeah, you are. Like I don't pay attention."

"Ok. Maybe I didn't tell you." She acquiesced, sensing the conversation was going nowhere good. "Honestly, I didn't think I _had _to make a _special_ announcement. You're fifty percent of this deal. You could look at those RSVP's anytime you wanted." She wasn't sure whether she wanted to blast him right back or just cry. "I really don't want to argue."

Logan noticed the tears starting to well up in her eyes and he couldn't handle that. He hated it when she was reacting appropriately and he went over the top, like he was right now. "Neither do I" he admitted, trying to diffuse his temper.

"Thank you." Grateful for his newfound control, she kissed him chastely. "Now introduce me to you mother and sister."

He put an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the house. "Sorry" he whispered.

"So, this lovely lady is your savior" Elizabeth said warmly as she clasp both of Susan's hands in hers.

Logan and Susan both looked surprised at Elizabeth's comment. "I'm so happy to finally meet you, Mrs. Howlett" she replied

"Please call me Elizabeth." Then addressing Logan, "You called her that last summer; don't you recall James? Is that the onyx?" she questioned eyeing Susan's engagement ring.

"Yes, it is and he designed it. Logan's got all kinds of hidden talents." Susan replied proudly.

"I should say. I'm very impressed son."

He was feeling extremely uncomfortable with all the attention being paid to his 'talents'. "Thanks" he finally muttered.

Julia made an appearance, after unpacking her things.

"Susie, this is my sister Julia Anne" Logan said emotionlessly.

Julia smiled politely. There weren't daggers behind her eyes, but she didn't look all that warm and fuzzy either. Susan was immediately struck at the resemblance between her and Logan but didn't think commenting on that would be taken too positively at the moment. A simple pleased to meet you was best and she hoped for the chance to get to know her better. She couldn't be as difficult as Logan had painted her; could she? Hopefully not.

The plan had originally been for Logan and Susan to prepare supper for everyone but her delay at the hospital threw a wrench in that plan. She already knew about the bachelor party since Electra had wisely made Vic clear it through with her. So plan B; they dined at a nearby restaurant, finishing up just in time for Logan to extricate himself and not be late for his party. Poker, beer and a great cigar were exactly what he desperately needed right about now.

The ladies re -gathered at Susan's with Electra and Storm joining, not wanting to be any where near the bachelor party. There were just enough of them to get two teams of Bridge going; the perfect venue for everyone to get to know one another.

The men's party broke up around midnight with Electra's return. "Ok gentlemen. It's midnight and I'm about to turn y'all back into pumpkins" she said jovially. There were some groans and one victorious 'oh yeah'; the winner of the penny, nickel dime poker round, obviously. This crew was not exactly what you'd call high rollers.

"Miho" Electra addressed Logan and gave his shoulder a squeeze "you're mother, she's a wonderful lady."

Logan shrugged and after a long moment quietly said "Thanks."

"You've got a mother?" Scott questioned.

Logan looked at Scott like he was from a distant planet. "Well yeah! Most of us do, eh. Would it be too much of stretch to believe I've got a sister, too?"

Scott sputtered for moment, his comment obviously taken the wrong way. "No. What I meant was….Geez Logan, you never said anything about a family."

"Haven't been real close" he answered. "Actually, I didn't even know they existed until this past summer."

"You and your sister could be twins" Electra added.

"That ugly, huh?" Hank commented.

"Up yours, Beast." Logan returned.

Electra said something rude to Hank in Spanish and then continued in English "No, Julia is lovely. She's not mutant, is she?"

"Nope." Logan pushed his chair away from the table, stood and stretched. "It's been real, gentlemen. Thanks for the hospitality. You won't mind if I call it a night." He strode toward the door. He didn't want to talk about his 'family' because he barely considered them that. "Scooter, don't spend all your winnings in one place."

"Not that I could get much on this cheesy pot" Scott answered. "How about an opportunity to win it back?" He was addressing all of them. There were nods of agreement to get together again at some unspecified point in time.

"Yeah, if the wifey will let him out to play." Hank said referring to Logan's soon to be newlywed status.

Logan grinned as he made his way out of the Marquez's. "Not a problem. I'll host the next one." He seemed to strut, just to prove that 'the wifey' would not be changing his ways--much.

Logan got home about twelve thirty to a quiet house. Susan was already asleep, but from her breathing pattern, not soundly yet. He showered quickly, then quietly slipped in beside her and pressed a kiss to her soft hair. "Night" he whispered.

She stirred, snuggled into him and mumbled something that sounded like 'love you.'

He'd just drifted off to sleep when Susan's pager phone trilled. It was the hospital calling to alert her that her patient had passed. "I'm going over; I want to sit with the family for a while" she told him as she pulled on some clothes.

"Do you want me to drive you? I don't like you being around there so late." He remembered the attack in the garage months before

"No. I'll be fine. I'll park by the ER and go in that way."

He nodded. It was well lit and always busy around the ER entrance.

Susan left quietly and he lay in bed listening to the relative quiet of the house. His sensitive hearing could pick up the breathing and snores of the houseguests. He felt hungry and wandered into the semi-dark kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk and raided the cookie jar on top of the fridge. He smiled to himself, pleased to find Oreo's and not something 'healthy'. Susan had been going a little overboard on the healthy stuff with being pregnant. He heard a rustling from the stairs and then caught the scent of Julia. "Can't sleep?"

Julia startled. "Oh! No, I can't."

"Sit down. Want some cookies and milk" he asked nonchalantly?

She looked at her brother with skepticism. She still didn't quite trust him and didn't think she really liked him but promised her mother that she'd give him a chance. "That would be nice. Where are mugs? I want to warm up the milk."

He went to a cabinet, grabbed a mug and microwaved some milk. "How can you drink it like that?" mildly grossed out at the combination of _warm_ milk and cookies. "It's supposed to be ice cold. The cookies are less likely to fall apart when you dunk 'em, eh."

She couldn't help but giggle. "That's not true; depends on the cookie.'

He shook his head and then paused for a moment. An intense sense of de ja vue crept over him and he added "And how long you dunk 'em."

"You always teased me when my cookies fell apart and then you wouldn't get me any more."

"How old were you when I was home" he asked in all seriousness?

"Three or four. You seemed so grown up to me but I guess you were only about eighteen or nineteen."

Logan sat down next to this woman who was his sister but for all practical purposes a stranger. If their previous meeting was taken into account, he considered her somewhat of a hostile stranger; yet, here he was sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night munching cookies and milk with her. "I wish I could remember that" he said with a touch of longing in his voice.

"So do I. You were around for such a short while and sometimes I'm not sure how much I really remember and how much of what I remember is something mother told me. It gets mixed up like that, eh."

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

Neither spoke any more as they finished their snack then she got up to put her mug in the sink. "Bon nuit, James" she said softly. Maybe she could try to like him. He didn't seem terribly threatening sitting there in flannel sleep pants, a t-shirt, bare feet and eating Oreo cookies. The milk mustache didn't do anything for a threatening image, either. She made a gesture with her hands to her upper lip to clue him into his appearance. Logan chuckled and wiped his lip with the back of his hand causing her to roll her eyes. Why did she know he was going to do that? Did he not know what a napkin was for?

Logan pushed away from the table, sleepy and sweet tooth sated, "See ya in the morning, sis" he said with a wink and headed to his room.

He still couldn't fall asleep thinking about anything and everything; the wedding, the twins, Susan's upcoming drill, his mother and sister. _Damn, if only a sleeping pill would_ _work._ He switched on the TV hoping that some boring late, late movie would lull him.

About half an hour into some stupid Godzilla movie, he felt that weird sense of unease. The TV picture seemed to waver and he felt those first stabs of pain in his head._ Not again! _

Dizziness started as he made for the bathroom and grabbed the medications that Hank prescribed. He had to steady himself against the wall near the sink as he tore open the packages of pre-measured syringes and then slid down to the floor to prevent from losing his balance. Sweating and shaking, nausea roiling his gut, he jabbed himself in the thigh with one syringe and then another. He closed his eyes against the spinning room and increasingly sharp pain in his head and leaned his head back, swallowing hard, fighting the bile that threatened to expel itself from his throat. It took about ten minutes of touch and go, but the meds worked but he sat still for at least another thirty minutes to make sure. Then he hid the syringes and crawled back into bed, overwhelmingly exhausted and it barely registered in his mind Susan returning later.

He woke up feeling perfectly normal the next morning and of course didn't mention his _problem_ to Susan. It was slow going for her. She needed more sleep than she'd got and that spelled a tough time with morning sickness. "Logan, have you mentioned to your mother about the twins" she asked sipping the ginger tea he'd brought to her bedside?

"Nooo." He answered, sounding guilty of the significant sin of omission he just got caught at.

"Oh, that's just peachy! Well, with the conversations we were having last night, I'm sure she's figured it out."

"Ok. No problem then" he answered knowing that it probably was a problem.

"James Andrew….." She was at a loss for what to say, embarrassed for Elizabeth and Julia and empathizing with the hurt feelings they may suffer. She wanted to strangle him for his lack of communicating and sensed a big issue looming; namely how he dealt with family versus how she dealt with family. It wasn't going to get solved today that was for certain. "Please do some damage control today while I'm off with my Aunts and Cousins."

"Like what" he questioned, feeling cornered?

"I don't know" she replied testily. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

He wasn't good at this family relations stuff and wasn't even a hundred percent sure he wanted to go there, at least not where Elizabeth and Julia were concerned. He hadn't sorted through his feelings about them unsure if he had any feelings either way. No, that wasn't true. He still felt conflicted when it came to his mother. He hadn't forgiven her for…what; some transgressions that he didn't really want to remember? Someday he was going to have to deal with it. "Shit!" he muttered in frustration.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

While having their nails done, Susan confided with her kin that she may have overstepped in her zeal to include Elizabeth and Julia. "I really thought he was paying more attention to the goings on and took his lack of comments as approval" she addressed the four women.

"Sassy, I don't think you should be so hard on yourself." Colleen replied. "Your Logan does have a lot of things he's working through, but he's still an adult."

"Yes… and no. He's not great on communication and has a tough time with certain feelings" she countered.

"What man doesn't?" Margaret added.

"It's harder for Logan. He's been through some rough times." Susan defended.

"Only as hard as you let him make it." Colleen shot back.

Susan looked her Aunt inquisitively.

"It's true Sassy; you told me yourself in September how he made certain choices to join humanity again. You've got to stop coddling him every time he gets a burr in his shorts."

"I don't coddle him." Susan snipped.

Colleen ignored the snip. "You do the best you can. You make choices based on what you think is good for you two; now you've got to let him choose to pay attention or not. If he doesn't like something, he's going to have to deal with it constructively."

"You're not a mind reader, dearest." Maureen chimed in.

"Besides, if you really wanted his mother here for the wedding, it is your right." Margaret added.

Susan glared at her cousin. This was not a rights issue. No wonder Margaret had been married and divorced three times.

"You didn't invite his mother to stir up trouble." Bridget stated

"Of course not!" Susan agreed. "Actually, when I told him about inviting his mother, he said that she probably wouldn't even come. I guess he was so convinced that she wouldn't and then when she did, he freaked."

"And this is your fault? How?" Colleen asked.

"It's not but I still feel like it is." Susan replied.

After they'd had their nails done and over luncheon Susan shared that Logan hadn't told Elizabeth and Julia about the twins.

"So you see why I really feel like I overstepped" Susan revisited her earlier comments. "I just assumed he had more of a relationship with them than he really did."

"So are you going to keep beating yourself up on the day before your wedding?" Bridget asked.

"No. Yes. Maybe. I just feel bad now for putting him in a situation. I didn't give him too much of a choice."

"Horse hockey!" Colleen said firmly. "I'm going to spell this out for you on last time, Susan Stryker Harris. He had ample opportunity to tell you whether he did or did not want his mother and sister at this wedding. He made a choice on how he wanted to communicate with his mother. If he didn't like how you were doing things, he had the obligation to say something. Not to choose is a choice."

Susan looked like she might cry. Colleen handed her an extra napkin.

"Sassy-Girl, if you don't have a case of the pre-wedding jitters all mixed up with those pregnancy ups and downs, I don't know who does." Colleen spoke gently. "Let it go. It's going to be fine. I can sense it. Trust me."

"What did you sense?" Susan sniffed.

"Your Logan is mostly bluster. He's embarrassed over his actions and he is intimidated by his mother. He's got what it takes to deal with it….. and he loves you. It doesn't take any special gift to see that. "

She considered for a moment him actually being embarrassed or intimidated; it was a stretch. "You really think so?"

"I know it." Colleen answered convincingly.

"I just don't want to repeat the same mistakes I made with Allen." Susan admitted. "Communication problems were at the root of that disaster."

"You over-simplifying that, Susan, and you know it." Colleen scolded gently. "Someday I'll give you my opinion on that. Now's not the time." Then she summoned the waitress. "Check please."

"Hey, that's my job." Susan said.

"Hush."

Logan's day with his mother and sister didn't turn out like anything he would have ever guessed. It started out awkward but ended up with a positive connection among the three of them. While driving over the Xavier's School to give Elizabeth and Julia the grand tour, he broached the subject of the twins. "Umm. I guess you've kind of figured out by now that umm, Susan's pregnant." _Why is this so hard_ he asked himself?

"Yes. The subject came up last evening." Elizabeth was playing it completely cool even though she was pleased. "How far along is she?"

"Uhh!" he couldn't think for the moment. "Well, she's due in late April."

"So, I am to finally become a grandmother!" Elizabeth smiled at her son.

"And I an Aunt" Julia added.

"Yeah. I guess that's right..." He felt stupid for not thinking of that. Of course that was right. "… and it's twins, a boy and a girl."

Elizabeth smiled "That's extraordinary! Your father, Thomas had a twin. You and Susan are very blessed."

The question 'do multiples run in your family' that the ultrasound technician asked weeks ago echoed in his mind. _'scuse me while I drive into the fuckin' light pole,_ he thought._ How many bombshells does this woman have?_

They drove in silence for a while. Finally Elizabeth had enough of all the pussy –footing around. Logan had come to her demanding answers and information. She had relented and now it was his turn to talk to her. She was going to reach out and try to build a relationship with him and his soon- to- be family. . She knew he wouldn't on his own.

If he rebuffed her, so be it. At least she tried.

"James," Elizabeth began "I was surprised and very pleased to receive an invitation to your wedding. Quite honestly, I truly never expected to hear from you again." Elizabeth paused for a long moment, giving Logan ample opportunity for a response. There was none.

"Susan explained the situation to me last evening." Elizabeth continued.

Logan's felt a funny twinge in his gut. He felt about six inches tall with guilt.

"I want you to understand that I completely understand. But I also want you to understand that I am extremely grateful to Susan for giving us this opportunity."

Logan still did not, could not speak and glanced at his mother with a look of confusion.

"For nearly twenty years I had thought you dead. For those years I felt a great responsibility for what I thought had led to your death. I made terrible, ignorant choices and you paid a terrible price for my mistakes."

Logan heaved a huge sigh. He did not want to go into this right now.

"Many times I have almost picked up the phone or written a note in the last few months. Each time I lost my nerve. I was afraid you didn't want to hear from me. I'm not certain you really are comfortable with me and Julia being here. Am I correct?"

Now there was a question to put him on the spot. The answer wasn't simple. Did he have the guts to express what he really felt? Did he even know what he really felt?

The answer to both questions was Yes…and …No. He could lash out and end everything right now. He could suck it up and pretend everything was fine. (Yeah, like he'd really do that!) What was the middle ground? He wasn't a middle ground kind of guy. "I don't know what I'm thinking." he admitted. "I knew Susan sent you an invitation but I didn't think you'd to accept." He really hoped Elizabeth would read between the lines. He didn't want to elaborate because he wasn't sure he knew the right words.

"You didn't answer my question" Elizabeth challenged.

"Am I comfortable with you and Julia being here" he questioned? He gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning bluish from the adamantium joints. _Here goes,_ he thought to himself; _hold your nose and just jump in._ "I don't know and that's the honest truth of it. I'm kind of shocked but I'm kind of happy, too. Ya know, I didn't think you really wanted anything more to do with me, either."

By now they had pulled into the drive at the School. The conversation was going to have to pause or they could sit in the truck and continue. Elizabeth wisely sensed a break would be beneficial. "Show me your life, son. We can continue later; over lunch, perhaps."

Two interesting things took place as Logan escorted his mother and sister around Xavier's School. The first was the discovery that Elizabeth Howlett had met Charles Xavier many years before! Charles parents had been wealthy art patrons. They actually 'traveled' in some of the same social circles as the Howlett's. Charles was just barely a teen, if that and Elizabeth had been a young bride, just married to the much older John Howlett when had met and briefly conversed at some elegant post-exhibit reception in Toronto.

The second interesting thing that happened (and if anyone had asked Logan's opinion, he would have labeled it downright unbelievable) was that Julia Anne and Scott seemed to hit it off rather easily! Scott made a complete pest out of himself, as far as Logan was concerned, by joining up with the tour that Logan was trying to conduct with his mother and sister. It actually turned out for the better as Elizabeth and Julia got a thorough briefing of the public mission of the school. That is; a haven for mutant children where they could receive a first class education, learn how to control their powers and then have the skills to re-enter the real world if they chose. Of course, the X-Team part of it was completely left out.

After the grand tour, Logan, Elizabeth and Julia took lunch at a nearby restaurant. Elizabeth was eager to continue her conversation from before with him. She didn't give him much opportunity out of it. Continuing precisely where they'd left off, Elizabeth launched back into it. "I'm grateful for your honesty, James. I'll admit to the same mixed emotions also share that Julia wanted no part of it."

Julia turned about five shades of crimson, glared at her mother and then finally turned her face to stare silently out of the window. Logan could sense Julia's strong feelings of betrayal and anger which really didn't take any special gift to sense.

"I insisted that Julia give things a chance." Elizabeth continued, choosing to ignore Julia's discomfort. They had been going round and round about it for weeks. Julia could be as locked up emotionally and stubborn as her big brother. Things were quiet for the remainder of the short car ride to the restaurant.

Once inside and seated, Elizabeth continued. Reaching out to gently touch his hand, she spoke very quietly. "I want to ask your permission for something, son."

He was startled. He almost pulled away, but managed to resist.

"I don't expect an answer at this moment. You must consult with Susan." Elizabeth prefaced. "Will you and Susan allow me to be a grandmother to your children?"

Another hard question. He still hadn't answered the first one very well.

Before he had a chance to answer, Elizabeth spoke again. She shared her feelings that being an active grandmother to the twins could help her to correct some of the sins she had committed raising him and his brother John.

She went into how she had married John Howlett, who was nearly twenty years her senior, for reasons having nothing to do with love. She had been a 'trophy wife'; He had needed a young wife to produce children to carry on the family line. She shared with Logan a bit about his biological father and how their affair had come about. Once Elizabeth had produced John Howlett, IV, John Howlett, III lost interest in his much younger wife. Elizabeth grew lonely, depressed and bored as he began to travel for long periods of time without her. The final break in their fragile marriage came when she discovered he'd been involved in a long term affair, one that pre-dated their marriage.

Logan just about choked on his lunch when Elizabeth quietly said that John Howlett, III had been seeing another man! What the hell do you say to a revelation like that? He just might be glad now that John Howlett wasn't his real father. What a freakin' soap opera!

"Look, Elizabeth" he tried to interrupt. "You don't have to go here." The conversation was getting really uncomfortable.

Elizabeth ignored him, bent on confessing past sins. "Things became ugly and complicated when I discovered John's secret. I held it over him to maintain position within the Family. We kept up the façade of our marriage to keep scandal away."

Continuing, she admitted to not really wanting to be a mother, but played along with the role. She did love her children but she just didn't know how to demonstrate that love appropriately. It had been easy with one child, Logan's older half-brother since she had the nannies and the housekeepers to take care of all the unpleasant things and didn't have to change her lifestyle one whit.

She took up with the estate groundskeeper, Thomas Logan, out of loneliness, need, spite and many other wrong reasons and John Howlett was actually relieved that she became involved with someone else. It took the 'pressure' off of him. That changed when Elizabeth became pregnant with Thomas Logan's child but she managed to manipulate John yet again. She 'coerced' him into accepting her love-child as a Howlett reasoning society would more easily accept Elizabeth's sin than the sin of the great and powerful John Howlett's sexual orientation. In the late 1940's that was a valid point.

These circumstances, as they were, put James Andrew Howlett, as one birth certificate did read, directly in the middle of a mess. John Howlett, III wanted nothing to do with the child. Thomas Logan had many children scattered all over Canada that he took no real responsibility for. Elizabeth, while she liked the 'idea' of motherhood sometimes, still had no interest in being a mother. She placed James in the care of nannies, as she had his older brother and continued her fancy, glittery lifestyle and her affair with Thomas Logan. John returned to the Howlett estate rarely by this point. Most of his visits coincided with John, IV's, his favored, true son's return from boarding school during holidays or summer breaks. Then they 'pretended' to be a family. Elizabeth admitted to Logan that he had been neglectful and hurtful to both John and him. She'd failed to put her children's needs ahead of hers many times, James more so.

Logan really didn't want to hear any more. What purpose would it serve? Soothe her conscience? Put his mind into overdrive; maybe stimulate some memories or worse, nightmares? Right now, this moment, this week was not the time. "Elizabeth….Mother, please. It's just not the time." He almost pleaded.

She paused, looked somewhat embarrassed and spoke again. "You're absolutely correct son. Forgive my ramblings. You will give my request some consideration, won't you?"

Logan had to think back for a moment. _Oh yeah, she wanted to 'play grandmother'_.

_Why the hell not? It's not like they lived next door to each other_. He guessed they might, at the very most, arrange visits once or twice a year. There was nothing to lose. If she wanted to make the overture, he'd accept. Susan would have no problems with it; he was pretty confident about that. He almost answered knock yourself out, old gal but couldn't be that rude and obnoxious. "We'll discuss it; don't think there's going to be a problem, though."

The three of them sat in silence for several minutes. The waiter came by to drop off the check. Both Logan and Elizabeth reached for it.

"May I" she asked?

"Nope." he answered and pulled out his relatively new Am Ex.

Julia stifled a bit of a laugh. Both Logan and Elizabeth glanced at her questioningly.

"If you will both look at the check, you'll notice it's been paid! While mother was baring her soul, I paid the check." Indeed Julia had excused herself during part of the conversation.

Logan smirked, shrugged and put his credit card back into his wallet. "Am I to assume that you don't think I'm out to scam you any more?" He was referring to what she had accused him of back in July.

She smiled coyly, but didn't offer an answer.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Everyone met back at Susan's home, the place a hen house again and Logan decided that maybe he would spend the night back in his old room at the School after all. They still had the rehearsal to go, late that afternoon and then he and Susan were treating everybody, meaning her family, his family, Vic & Electra, Charles & Genevieve, Kurt & Storm and of course Scott to dinner. That had been Susan's idea. As he was packing up some of his things to take over to School, he mentioned some of the details of his afternoon. He told her about the interesting interplay between Scott and Julia.

"We'll have to make sure they sit together at dinner, then" she replied.

"I'm not getting in the middle of that for anything. I kinda wish you wouldn't either, babe."

She was surprised and didn't quite know what he meant. "Ok. I wasn't planning on playing matchmaker, if that's what you're worried about."

Actually he wasn't sure what he was worried about. What did he really care? Julia was his kid sister, but he felt more like a big brother to Marie than to her. Julia and Scott- that was just too out there! Besides, it wasn't any of his business anyway. There were so many sub plots playing out. Dynamics between families and friends could get complicated really fast and for a moment he regretted they didn't just elope. "I'll see you in a few hours" he said as he pulled her close and kissed her.

"Sounds like a plan to me" she said and ruffled his hair. "Got everything?"

"No, but I will soon" he grinned slyly. Suddenly he remembered he'd actually forgotten something very important; the rings! They were in his top dresser drawer. "Glad you said that."

She shook her head and giggled. "Who's the blond?"

After sending him on his way what she really needed was a nap. The past thirty six hours had been, well, crazy. The passing of her patient had been the issue that had thrown her carefully laid plans off and been an emotional drain that she didn't need just now. She needed to take more time than she had allowed herself and was available at the moment to mourn for that child and family. She needed to take care of herself or she was going to get nailed with a bought of morning sickness and be miserable. Something like that would make the brief honeymoon that she and Logan had carved out so very memorable.

She was trying to remember why she chose the first Saturday in October. What had she been thinking cramming everything like that? Oh well, it seemed do-able at the time. The little Labor Day surprise and effects of that had made the difference in her energy levels. Easily do-able became almost too much on some days. They were almost there; just a few more details that she wasn't going to leave to Logan remained. Maybe they should have eloped! She had just set herself down on the chaise in her room, when she heard a tap on her bedroom door.

"May I come in?" It was Elizabeth.

She dragged herself off of her comfortable perch and strode across the room. "Of course" she answered and wondered what Elizabeth might want. "Is everything ok? Do you need anything?"

"Everything is perfect, my dear. Thank you." Elizabeth said warmly. "I just wanted to chat with you for a few moments. There's so little time and I wanted to get to know you more."

Susan smiled, grateful for the opportunity that was presenting itself. "I'm glad. Come in" she gestured to the sitting area of the bedroom. "Would you like some tea?"

"I don't want you to go to any trouble." Elizabeth answered.

"No trouble at all. I'm in the mood for some" she assured and began to prepare two mugs. She had remodeled her bedroom and bathroom several years ago and built out a sitting area with a gas fireplace and a tiny kitchenette that housed a mini-fridge and microwave.

Over tea, the two women spoke, awkwardly at first, then more openly and warmly. Elizabeth took the lead, much as she had with Logan earlier that day. At least with Susan, Elizabeth didn't feel like she was making the first move. Susan had done that with issuing the wedding invitation.

The rehearsal later that day was not really all that involved being more of a show the out- of- towners where to go, check on some details and then entertain all the significant people that Susan and Logan cared about. They had reserved a large party room at their favorite Italian restaurant. Interestingly, Julia and Scott did pair off without any match-making by anyone and it was a relaxing enjoyable evening for everyone.

At the close of the evening, Logan excused himself to clear up the bill. He returned to the group with a look of amazement on his face; Elizabeth had beaten him to it and paid the tab. When he subtly approached her to thank her, she waived him off explaining that it was traditional for the grooms' family to cover the rehearsal dinner.

Later, when the women were settled at Susan's, and Logan was ready to head over to the School for the night, Elizabeth pulled both of them aside. "I have something very special I want to present to you both tonight" Elizabeth spoke somberly. "Jaime" she used his childhood name "Do you remember I told you about a trust fund I had set up for you?"

Logan shook his head; he didn't remember.

"In 1968 I set it up and you never used it. It's been accumulating since then and its value is significant. I have taken the liberty to convert it to a mutual fund in your name." Elizabeth handed him an envelope containing the legal paperwork. "All you need do is sign it, witnessed by a notary of course, and it is yours--and Susan's, if you choose."

He looked at her with surprise. It was a generous gesture, but he didn't quite grasp how generous. When Elizabeth leveled him with the fact that the annual interest on the fund was in excess of a million dollars, he got the significance-loud and clear."Elizabeth,… Maman!" He spoke in French. "I don't know what to say. Merci, merci beaucoup."

"Je t'en prie!" You're welcome, Elizabeth replied. "It's been a wonderful day though I'm quite fatigued so I bid both of you bonne nuit." She embraced them warmly and exited.

Susan was genuinely touched by Elizabeth's gift. Logan was completely blown away. He didn't even need to be that careful, and he was set for life. For an ex-bum, who got by on cage fight prize money and whatever else he could scrounge up, the steady income from the School was more than adequate. This windfall was- well it was more than he could get a handle on at the moment.

He kissed Susan slowly, deeply, passionately good night kind of hoping she'd urge him to stick around but she maintained it was bad luck the night before the wedding. She patted his fanny, promised him something_ special_ tomorrow night and sent him on his way.

Susan sat up with the other women for a short while. Finally fatigue caught up with her. She excused herself for a bubble bath, some herbal tea and snuggled herself in for the night.

Logan hung out with Vic and Electra at their home for a while and then went into the School to work out in the Danger Room on an easy simulation, talked with Marie until last lights- out for students and then finally sat in the darkened TV room channel surfing.

Scott had the watch that night. He made his rounds and noticed Logan sitting alone in the empty, dark TV room. Turning on a lamp, he sat down in a chair opposing the couch Logan was sprawled on.

"You nervous? About tomorrow" he inquired?

Logan shook his head. Nervous, no. Anticipating, yes. But, he wasn't in the mood to express his feelings at the moment.

"Your sister is a nice lady." Scott said

Logan made a waving motion with one hand. "I guess so. I hardly know her."

"That's a shame. You should get to know her."

"Hell, I didn't even know she existed until three months ago." Logan sounded offended.

"Whoa! No offense, Logan." Scott back watered.

Logan realized he over reacted. Sighing, he countered. "None taken" then added "maybe I am a little jittery" referring to Scott's first question.

"I've got a very nice bottle of Crown. Care to join me?" he invited.

Logan raised his eyebrows in mild surprise_. The Boy Scout! A bottle of Crown Royal?_ _Go figure?_ he thought. "What the hell! Why not?" He answered with gusto.

The two of them proceeded to Scott's suite and put back a few shots. Liquid courage hit Scott fairly quickly and he soon was talking up a blue streak; reminiscing about Jean; his younger years before he'd come to Xavier's; how much he'd grown to respect Logan and finally, after a shot or two more, worked up the courage to ask Logan what he thought of was a fairly loaded question. "Logan…. Do you mind if I see your sister?"

Logan was alternately bored and discomforted at the previous strain of conversation. He was being overly polite and tolerant, mostly because the Crown Royal was pretty darned good and he was feeling mellow though Scott's last question made him laugh out loud.

"What so funny?" Scott puzzled.

"Why in the hell are you askin' me" he asked mirthfully?

"Who else would I ask?" Scott was serious.

"Let me set ya straight, Scooter; Julia might be my blood relative but I've got no hold over her and even if I did, she's a grown woman. CEO of a pretty successful business empire, I might add. Ask her." Logan said the last two words with particular emphasis.

Scott thought over what Logan said and suddenly felt just like an idiot. Why was he bothering to ask Logan's permission for anything?

Logan polished off another shot and noticed Scott had pretty much got to his limit. Any more alcohol or conversation, and it was going to get tense and possibly unfriendly. He thanked Scott for the hospitality and begged off any more. Scott bought Logan's excuse of having to turn in so he'd be rested for the big day tomorrow.

Logan wasn't the least bit tired or buzzed from the Crown Royal. Instead, he wandered down to the lower levels of the mansion, found Hank doing some sort of research in the lab and bothered him for a while. The two ended up playing Ace-Deuce with a backgammon board. About three a.m., both beaten and lost to each other equally they decided to give it up for the night but promised each other a rematch for 'champion of the world' bragging rights.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Authors Notes: This is the last offering for this weekend. Hopefully I'll be able to put a few more on next weekend. Enjoy. _**

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Next morning, Susan and her female entourage were busily loading up cars; her wedding dress, her luggage plus everyone else's. Elizabeth and Julia were departing for Canada right after the ceremony and Susan's kin were driving south to visit some off- shoot of the family in the Carolina's.

"Sassy-Girl, I need you to help me with something" Aunt Colleen called as she stood beside the rental SUV.

"Yes'm" she made her way to the vehicle.

Colleen struggled to pull out a large, flat package from the trunk.

"Good grief. This is heavy. What is it?"

"Careful, it's breakable." Colleen warned. "It's your wedding present."

The two women, one on either side carried the cardboard box into the house. "Sorry it's not wrapped. Dag-blamed airlines and restrictions, you know?" Colleen commented.

Setting it on the kitchen table, Susan slid the cardboard off. "Oh, Colleen! This is wonderful. How did you get all this together? ……Oh my gosh, this is such a great picture of us."

Colleen had put together and framed a large photo collage of the Labor Day Weekend Family Reunion. Shots of Susan and Logan at the various barbeques, the water-polo match, Susan's dunking from Logan, one of him jamming at the Boot Scoot, and of course a copy of the family photo. She'd also framed two desk top sized photos of them, taken when they'd been dancing. Which ever family member took the picture did a great job, capturing a profile shot that clearly illustrated a couple very much in love. Logan, still sporting the mutton-chops, his hair wavier than normal from the Texas heat and humidity, a lock of his falling over his forehead, was gazing intensely at her, possibly speaking to her or maybe just about to kiss her. His right arm held her around the waist, while his left hand rested tenderly on the side of her face. Susan, both arms around his waist and her head tilted upward just a bit to compensate for the height difference between them, was raptly gazing back into his eyes. Susan commented to Colleen that such a photo could never have been posed.

Elizabeth and Julia commented favorably and Julia expressed that she thought her brother looked better clean shaven, as he was at the moment. That sparked a humorous debate among all the women and questions as to why he was now clean shaven. Susan shared with them about his motorcycle wreck. That put a bit of a damper on the humor as the women, especially Elizabeth, realized how lucky it was for him to have his particular mutation. Nobody needed to mention that this wedding would not be happening if he hadn't.

As they resumed loading up cars, a taxi pulled into the driveway. Susan was puzzled then thrilled when its occupant emerged. "Travis!" she shouted, bounded toward the cab and wrapped her uniformed son in a mother-bear hug. She sputtered questions about the how's and why's of him being there, under the impression that he was unable to get any leave as a first year cadet.

Travis returned the hug, lifting his mom off the ground just a bit, said he'd explain in a moment and begged her to pay the cab. Cab paid for with mom's credit card, Travis then gave his Great Aunts and Cousins the same warm hugs. When introduced to Elizabeth and Julia, he greeted the women with formal, but warm handshakes and a greeting in French.

When Julia replied back to him in French, Travis was forced to admit that his command of the language was limited to the basics. But he made points for trying. Then he explained to everyone that it was _not_ the usual for a first- year to get leave unless the circumstance was extraordinary. A wedding obviously qualified He hadn't even got the word that he had been approved for it until that very morning and he had to be back by taps that night. Time was running short. They had to be over at the School. The ceremony was now T-minus one hour and thirty four minutes.

From Logan's perspective, the morning went well and he was in great mood. He slept in late, went for a short, but intense run, and ate a big breakfast with Vic and Electra before he got Matt from his Dads and the old bastard didn't give him a hard time. Finally, he helped Bobby and Kyle set up some extra chairs in the solarium for the ceremony. When that had all been accomplished, it was just about time for him to shower and get dressed. He was trying to time it so he wasn't left with a lot of time on his hands to do nothing. Yeah, he was a little jittery and there were definitely butterflies in his stomach.

Susan's plan was to dress in her office after checking on the reception preparations. She and Logan had settled on a luncheon. That way they could get on the road and be in Washington, DC before it got too late in the evening. They only had until Monday morning for a honeymoon. Before Susan sequestered herself in her office to prepare, Travis indicated a need to talk to her about something and his mood seemed serious.

"Mom, is anyone walking you down the aisle?"

"No. Why?"

"If you don't mind…..I… um…..I'd like to."

She studied her eldest son's expression and innately sensed something going on. With a look that said if- you- want- to- talk, I'm -open, she accepted his offer to walk her down the aisle.

Travis knew his mother's looks and began his explanation. "It would mean a lot to me and I think it would mean a lot to Logan."

She shot him a questioning look.

He rocked on his heels trying to de-stress. "Do you remember last summer when I got grounded, you know for the beer party?"

She nodded.

"Well…,"his words came tumbling out, "Logan and I kinda got into a fight. I mean, I was pretty messed up and I said some really hurtful, stupid things, then I took a swing at him and I've just felt like crap about it ever since."

She struggled to keep a look of surprise off her face and debated the correct reply, not wanting to shut down this stream of communication with her son. :"Have you talked to Logan about it any more?"

"Nah- no ma'am. We pretty much hashed it out then. I still feel kind of bad about though."

She smiled and stood on her tip- toes to give her son a kiss on the cheek. "I'd be honored, son and I'm pretty certain Logan will understand and appreciate it. Now scram, I've got to get ready."

Travis smiled back, relieved and happy.

Colleen helped Susan with her up-do hairstyle, just a simple French twist, fastened with a pearl clasp. Her dress was a copy of a 1920's style wedding dress; calf- length ivory satin with the palest blue sash that rode low on her hips. The bodice of the dress was sleeveless drapes of satin that v-ed discretely in the front and a bit more daringly in the back. The dress was not clingy, but gently accentuated her figure and did not call attention to her belly, which was just starting to round ever so slightly. She chose matching pale blue satin slip on mules with a fairly low, thin heel for comfort. A pearl necklace and tear-drop earrings and a bouquet of ivory roses completed the outfit.

"You look beautiful! Are you ready, Sassy?" Colleen beamed at her niece.

"Absolutely." Susan answered with surety. "Get Travis, please."

Susan and her West Point cadet walked arm in arm the short distance to the solarium. Travis couldn't get over how great his mom looked. He just beamed with pride. The two of them paused for a moment at the double door entry of the solarium.

Susan took a moment to soak in everything. The students seated in the back of the room, closest to her at the moment, were all cleaned up and dressed in the best they had. Faculty and staff and a few of Susan's associates and the Happy Hour crew took up the middle portion of the seating. Closest to the ceremony place, were family. There wasn't an alter set up, per se; just a small table covered in ivory colored linen that held two unlit candles and one larger lit candle, circled with pale blue and ivory flowers. The rings were nestled in a small crystal dish.

Her eyes fell upon Logan, standing there near the table. He wore a dark gray pair of pants and an ivory collarless, button down shirt and his good black boots. Up to that point, she had no idea what he was going to wear because when they discussed the issue previously it was mutually decided that it needed to be a reflection of their true selves. Keeping things 'real' was very important to him and she did have a fear he'd wear jeans and a flannel shirt. He was nervous, she could tell from the cocky look on his face but it was a 'good nervous'. If it hadn't been, he'd have that menacing look.

Logan sensed her as she walked down the corridor toward the solarium and his knees nearly buckled when he caught sight of her. To him, _she was breathtaking; too beautiful and too good for him, _he thought briefly

Charles caught Logan's thoughts and projected back to him '**will you ever allow yourself to believe that you deserve the best in life, too?'**

'**It's getting easier.'** Logan admitted back with his mind.

Susan and Travis began the slow deliberate pacing down the aisle. Logan moved toward the center, just in front of the ceremony table. She felt joyfully nervous and tears glistened in her eyes but didn't flow. He had a tight grin on his face, but his eyes glowed with love.

Travis stopped just in front of Logan and placed his mother's hand on his waiting arm. "Take good care of my mom" Travis murmured.

He shook the young man's hand, nodded, and replied "I give you my word on that."

Travis took a seat and Charles moved toward the center, beside the couple. He made some appropriate remarks that reflected his joy and honor to be able to share the moment with them and commented about and complimented the family members and friends that came to support them. He worked in a very diplomatic comment on the injustice of the Mutant Registration Act and the difficult choices that had to be made in the Act's wake praising their courage in defying the Act and finally turned it over to Logan and Susan.

They moved behind the ceremony table and stood facing each other. At that moment, for both of them, nothing or no one else existed. Logan clasped both of her hands in his and gazing straight and deep into her blue eyes, began to speak his vows:

_I, James Andrew Logan promise to be faithful to you, to love and cherish you, to protect you and give you my strength, to help you in good times and bad, to respect our individuality, to make our home one of love and understanding. I give you all of my trust, all of my tomorrows, all of my life._

Struggling not to cry, she spoke:

_I, Susan Aileen Stryker Harris promise to be faithful to you, to love and cherish you, to give you my strength, to help you in good times and bad, to respect your individuality, to make our home one of love and understanding. I give you all of my trust, all of my tomorrows, all of my life._

It was silent for a long moment as the two of them, still lost in each other, contemplated their promises to each other. Then he picked up the ring, held it just at her face level.

_Susan, I offer you this ring-- _She picked up the other ring and held it up for him. _Logan, I offer you this ring-- _Hands shaking, he slipped the ring on her finger then she did the same and then they spoke together: -_ as an unending symbol of our love and promises to each other. _

Next they each took a candle, lit them with the flame of the larger candle and spoke together again. _Let no force in the universe extinguish the eternal flame of our love._ They placed the candles back in the holders, took a step back from the ceremony table and a tear trickled down his cheek as they enveloped each other and kissed.

On cue, Charles spoke "Allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. James Logan" and hoots and applause went out from everyone in attendance.


	13. Chapter 13

**Obligatory Disclaimer: The usual. **

**Authors Notes: It's been a while everyone, sorry. Things are still going smoothly for Logan and Susan but things are going to change very shortly. **

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Logan took Susan by the hand and led her back down the aisle to the corridor and accepted congratulations from family and friends. Next he had to endure obligatory photos. He semi-reluctantly behaved himself for a few only because Susan said if he didn't there would be a significant number of disappointed family members, including his newest, closest family member. He caught that hint real fast.

They made their way to the dining room where a buffet luncheon was in progress. Nerve wracking part over with, Logan was starved. He'd just fixed himself a heaping plate and was about to take a bite out of a sandwich when Susan took him by the arm to mingle with their guests.

They both exhibited exemplary behavior when it came to cutting and feeding each other the cake- almost. Logan couldn't resist a suggestive lick of icing from her finger tips nor could he resist making a show of peeling off her garter. That brought a few hoots from the guests and caused Susan to blush. From the stairs, they tossed the bouquet and garter. Julia caught the flowers and Scott caught the garter.

As they made for her new Volvo SUV, which had been appropriately decorated by the students, they were bombed and pelted with rice. Logan's sister positioned herself strategically and nailed him in the ear with a small rice bag. Suspiciously, Scott happened to be right beside her, laughing. She smiled a bit too sweetly and yelled over the farewells, "That's for not getting me more cookies. Don't make a stranger of yourself." Logan had to think about what she said for a second. He got it and laughed also betting with himself that Scott had something to do with the rice bomb.

They drove off, picked up the Tappan Zee Thruway and merged onto the New Jersey Turnpike for the four and half hour drive to Washington, DC. "Happy, Mrs. Logan?"

"More than you'll ever know, Bright Eyes."

He glanced over, smiled and chucked her chin. "I didn't get a chance to tell you how beautiful you looked in your dress. I almost passed out."

"You _were _shaking some when you put the ring on my finger" she teased. "Guess there are a _few _things that _can_ rattle my super-hero, huh?"

He laughed.

"Did you throw my garter to Scott on purpose?"

"Did you throw the bouquet to Julia?" he shot back.

She cocked her head, raised an eyebrow in a copy-cat look that said 'I'll never tell.'

"Call it fate then" he replied.

"Could be" she agreed. "I wonder what's going on with them? There definitely seems to be something."

"I don't know. I can't picture it; they're too different" he commented.

"I don't know about that, Logan. I think they're actually quite a bit alike."

He glanced at her questioningly.

She continued, "No offense to either, but they're both rather proper, particular and perfectionist."

"Are you trying to say anal retentive?" Logan clarified.

"Those are your words."

Changing the subject, he continued. "Hey, were you as surprised as I was by Travis making it?"

"I was thrilled." Her face glowed with maternal pride. "Hey, he told me about what happened between you two last summer."

Logan nodded but wasn't going to elaborate, which is what her tone of voice was trying to elicit. "West Point seems to agree with him?" Logan mused. "He's one kid to be proud of—good roll model and big brother for our boy."

Pushing for more information she asked, "Did Travis really take a swing at you?"

"Is that what he said?"

"No Logan, I made it up."

"Susie, I promised Travis I'd keep the whole thing to myself. If you want to share his version with me, that's fine but I'm not breaking my promise."

Susan digested what Logan said and decided to drop it. _One of those things between_ _men_, she told herself. Someday she'd probably hear both sides of it though in the great scheme, it wasn't important right now. "What was that comment Julia made about cookies?"

Logan chuckled. "Oh yeah. The other night, when you were at the hospital, we were sitting in the kitchen munching cookies and milk and she told me how I used to mess with her when she was really little. She said I wouldn't get her more cookies when she dunked them and they fell apart."

Susan giggled "Oh you wicked, cruel big brother!"

"Apparently" Logan agreed.

"Do you remember it?"

"Not really. But it's weird; it feels right. Does that make sense?"

"I think so. I think it's terrific that she made a friendly overture especially when you told me how she treated you in Canada. I think it's a significant break through"

He shrugged not wanting to focus on his sister or anyone else for that matter; just his new bride sitting beside him.

Susan yawned, road hypnosis taking hold and toggled the seat adjustment then snuggled back. "Mind if I snooze?"

"Sweet dreams, darlin'" he replied gently.

He glanced at her from time to time as the miles whizzed by. He marveled at her loveliness and _still_ wondered what she saw in him. He replayed the wedding over in his mind. It couldn't have come off more perfectly and been more meaningful. She'd thought right when she suggested weeks ago they write their vows. Initially it freaked him out to try and put feelings and values down on paper; and then to have to say them in front of others; it wasn't something he did. For a brief moment he set every thing his soul felt out for the world and it felt so god-damned right. It crossed his mind that right at this very moment he felt happier and more at peace than he'd ever felt in his entire life and indulged in the feeling.

They made it as far as the Delaware Memorial Bridge when she woke from her nap. She yawned, stretched and took note of where they were. "Hey! Good sleep?" he asked, noticing she was awake.

"Mmm, hmm. I'm hungry and I need a pit stop."

"Ok, rest stop's just ahead."

She nodded then a moment late countered "Go past the rest stop and take the Chesapeake City exit."

He glanced at her questioningly.

"There's one of the best seafood restaurants right on the C&D Canal. It's called Shaefer's Canal House. I guarantee you'll love it, Bright Eyes; besides I am having a sudden craving for seafood."

He had to laugh. "You've been on kind of a see-food diet lately, haven't ya?"

Susan took mock offense. "I _am_ eating for three, you know."

They took a seat on the dock level of the restaurant. Huge windows looked right out onto the canal. Several large yachts were docked. "Do you like boats" she asked as they perused the menu?

"What do you mean, do I like boats?"

"I mean have you ever sailed or powered for the fun of it?"

"Nope; at least if I did, I don't remember. I did crew on an ore ship once. Spent the whole time seasick." Those enhanced sense of his were to blame and it didn't help that one of those Great Lakes gales was happening at the time.

"You're kidding? Oh, poor baby." After a moment she added, "We should go on a cruise or maybe lease a boat sometime"

He shrugged, the idea not appealing to him. "What brought that up?"

"Just seeing boats makes me miss it. When the boy's were younger before my divorce from Allen, we had a lovely sailboat and would spend great weekends at Cape Cod or the Vineyard."

A waitress came by to take their order. Susan wanted a huge broiled seafood platter, crab, oysters, clams with fixins of slaw and fried tomatoes. Logan wasn't a huge seafood fan. He was definitely a meat and potatoes type of guy. A great big burger with a side of fries suited him perfectly.

"Do you wanna go on a cruise" he asked after the waitress had gone?

"Might be fun," then added wistfully "I don't know how we'd carve out the time anytime soon."

He nodded in agreement. "Maybe this coming summer?"

"The twins will be too young" she countered.

He looked at her funny and she caught his unspoken question. "They'll only be four months by the end of the summer and still be nursing."

He had to think about that_. How big is a four month old? Nursing, as in breast feeding_? That was a concept he hadn't thought one whit about. _Big learning curve coming up,_ he warned himself.

Then she talked about her expectations of her drill at the National Naval Medical Center and the Shock Trauma rotation she was going to do at the University of Maryland. The University of Maryland had spearheaded the nations first shock trauma program and had established the protocols used nationwide. They had coined the term "the Golden Hour", that period of time when a victim of extreme trauma could most likely be saved if prompt and aggressive medical treatment was rendered. Logan was glad she was excited about the opportunity even though thinking about it gave_ him_ the creeps.

They got back on the road and bickered about the radio for a few miles. Generally the rule was, who ever drove got to choose the music; but she really wanted to listen to A Prairie Home Companion. After a bit of grumbling that the program was hokey, he relented.

Susan had rented a small but nicely appointed, furnished apartment a few minutes from the National Naval Medical Center and also had the foresight to have the place stocked with nicer than basic necessities upon their arrival. For a price you could get anything done and in DC things could be done nicely.

After they'd unpacked and settled in, Susan commandeered the Jacuzzi tub and saucily suggested that he was welcome to join her and of course, his response was overwhelmingly positive. As she drew the water, he went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of champagne that he'd brought from the reception. Going back to the bathroom, he paused to pull the comforter and bed sheets down and undress.

She watched him as she soaked in the tub."Oh my stars, there's a naked man in my bedroom. What ever shall I do?"

"I'll show ya what to do" he answered as he sauntered in, handed her a glass of bubbly and sat on the edge of the tub. "First, a little toast, Mrs. Logan" he clinked his glass gently against hers "I love you."

"I love you, too"

He set their glasses on the ledge just above the tub and then eased himself into the warm water. Taking the sponge, he tenderly washed her shoulders and back. She cooed with pleasure "What are you doing to me?"

"Just getting started."

She turned to face him, draped her arms around his neck, nibbled his chin and purred, "I think we better finish this elsewhere."

Next morning, Logan woke as the sun rose. Such a feat at one time was unusual for him because he was a night owl by habit but domestic life had forced him to restructure that habit. He lay there relishing the early morning silence punctuated by Susan's soft breathing and intermittent squeaky little snores. Outside traffic, a barking dog and a church bell disturbed the early morning tranquility. He could easily hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, a drip in the plumbing somewhere in the walls and in another apartment a baby was crying. His sensitive hearing could pick up on much more, even the sound of electricity running through the wiring but he filtered out that kind of background clutter. He sat up, stretched and yawned. She turned over and snuggled down deeper into the blankets. He leaned over and pressed a kiss in her hair and whispered, "I'm going for a jog."

"Mmm, hmmm" she answered sleepily. As he dressed in sweats, she asked if he wanted her to join him but was pleased with his ambivalence because she really rather slept in.

He ran a short intense course through the neighborhood, which was a mix of high rise apartments, office buildings and very upscale shops and restaurants. Downtown Bethesda, Maryland was an eclectic mix and he couldn't say that it appealed to him; too commercial, too uppity-yuppy. If he'd still had the mutton chops and his hair was not recently cut, he'd probably be getting all kinds of questioning looks, if not actually hassled by the authorities. But in this case that was a good thing because he felt Susan would be relatively safe here.

He walked the last quarter mile back to the apartment, stopped at a shop that had just opened and bought a small bouquet of roses. That kind of thing wasn't something he did often, but it proved he was trainable. Actually, this time, he outdid himself. He prepaid for flowers to be sent to her once a week while she was here. When he returned to the apartment she was still asleep which suited perfectly; gave him time to shower and make her breakfast.

Susan came wandering out, wrapped in her favorite terry robe, just as Logan was finishing up a makeshift breakfast tray; one cutting board, covered in a tea towel, nicely folded paper towel in place of the napkins he couldn't find would have to do it. "Get back there" he ordered playfully. "You'll spoil my surprise"

She giggled and scurried back to bed "Heaven forbid!"

He followed close behind with her tea. Morning tea seemed to be the trick to keep morning sickness away. More days than not, afternoon tea was a necessity, too because three-thirty or four o'clock was her another one of her witching hours.

"You are such a sweet heart" she exclaimed "a girl could get used to this."

"Don't get too used to it, Babe. I can spoil ya rotten now, but, I do have a reputation to maintain" he answered with a teasing look on his face, in his voice.

"Wouldn't want to do anything to sully that reputation of yours."

"That's right, and don't forget it" he said as he set the tray by the bedside.

"Mmmm, love you Bright Eyes" she said as she leaned toward him for a good morning kiss.

He accepted and returned her kiss. Next, he picked up a slice of melon, took a bite and then in a sensual, suggestive manner, offered her a bit.

She picked a sweet grape, placed it between her lips, leaned toward him, offering a bite from between her lips.

Gently, he nibbled half the grape. "I want more" and he moved in for a passionate kiss, enveloping her in his arms.

"More what?" she teased when he broke the kiss.

He growled, "You," and began to kiss her hungrily…

A bit later, after returning to reality, he asked "Susie, were you serious about the sailboat thing?"

She had to think about the question, not quite remembering her ramblings from lunch the day before. "Someday, yes. Why?"

"When I was running earlier, I saw an ad for a boat show. How far is Annapolis from here?"

"About an hour."

"Wanna go?"

"To Annapolis? You bet. I love Annapolis"

Never having been to a boat show, Logan had no idea what to expect. He began to regret suggesting it almost from the beginning and if she hadn't seemed to be into it so much, he'd have changed his mind. The first annoyance was getting there; traffic into Annapolis was 'special'. Parking was bloody inconvenient and they had to park at Faragut Stadium and then take an expensive shuttle. On a beautiful Indian summer day, it was crowded and he really didn't like crowds. It was harder to sift through the bombardment of scents and sounds and it pegged up his agitation levels, made him feel like he had to be on guard. When he complained about it none to quietly, she just smiled and told him it would be worth the aggravation. He still wasn't too sure.

The magnitude of the boat show was astounding being one of the largest shows on the east coast, second and third in size to Miami and New York. All types and sizes of sailboats choked the inner harbor of downtown Annapolis. Display booths dotted every possible land spot and much to Logan's delight, so did beer vendors.

Susan took him on a wide assortment of sailboats and refrained from giving him her opinion not wanting to influence his initial reactions. He had no idea there was so much 'stuff' that went along with boats. It wasn't an inexpensive hobby, either. He was quite blown away at the luxuries available; galley's that made a fairly decent apartment look shabby. What did you need an oven on a boat for? A washer and a dryer! Was this for real? One of the larger yachts head or bathroom was done in marble! He could understand and appreciate the sophisticated navigation equipment though thought the automatic hoisting equipment for sails was for wimps.

There were a few that he liked. Actually a forty two foot Hunter, seemed to be just what his untrained mental image conjured up as a perfect boat. A sleek, narrow, white fiberglass hull, teak decking and rails and double masted. Electronic rigging controls were an option, not standard. The cabin was nice but not too overdone. His enthusiasm was cooled significantly when he checked out the price; something like, if you have to ask how much, you can't afford it. Susan offered that it was no worse than buying and owning an airplane, which was something he'd mentioned from time to time now that he was close to getting his pilots license.

They had lunch, after a long wait in line, at Middleton's Tavern. The place dated to the late 1700's and part of the tavern was actually original. Over a steaming bowl of Maryland Crab soup, the likes of which Logan had never tasted and couldn't seem to get enough of, they seriously discuss boats. When they got back to the apartment, neither felt like going out for dinner, which had been the plan. Instead, he left her to nap for a while and he headed to the nearby grocery to scrounge up something to cook.

When she awoke from her siesta, her senses were greeted by the unmistakable aroma of something definitely Italian. "What's cooking?" she asked putting her arm around him as he stirred a pot of bubbling sauce.

"How's lasagna sound?"

"Awesome. Where did you learn how to make that?"

"The back of the noodle box."

"Oh, that's logical." She laughed. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Nope."

They had a lovely supper with a salad, garlic bread and Chianti completing the menu. Logan even thought to set up the coffee table in front of the fireplace, so they could eat by firelight. She was touched by the simplicity of his gesture. He might not be good at articulating how he felt and there were times he was tough to be around, but these little things he did, just out of the blue, clarified his feelings to her more than anything.

The apartment had a stereo housed in an entertainment center. Logan put a few CD's in the changer and they danced for a while. Both were realizing that their time together was short. In about twelve hours, she'd have to report and he'd be on a plane for Westchester.

He pulled her closer to him as they swayed to the music. Nuzzling her hair, he sighed, "I don't want this to end."

"Neither do I," she answered, tilting her head to look up. She reached her hand to touch his cheek, drawing him closer. "Just try not to think of it as ending…." She couldn't quite come up with one of her 'look at the bright side' comments. Instead she kissed him tenderly.

"You know something Mrs. Logan?"

"What, darling?"

"I never did….." he gathered her up in his arms "carry you over the threshold."

"No, you never did." She agreed, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again as he carried her to the bedroom.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Something made Logan awaken suddenly. He sat upright in bed, hyper-aware as overwhelming feelings of agitation washed over him. Not wanting to disturb Susan, he slipped out of bed, put on his shorts and proceeded to pace the room searching for the cause of his unease.

He began to feel unsteady, just like a few days ago. Moments later the pain shot through his forehead from temple to temple. He stifled a groan and grabbed the edge of a chair to steady himself. If experience was any guide, he knew he had only moments to get to the bathroom. The floor seemed to come at him as he tried to make his way across the room. He grabbed onto the doorframe to keep from pitching forward and his knees buckled as another bolt of searing pain ripped his skull.

Stumbling into the bathroom in search of his shaving kit and the meds Hank prescribed, he felt strange sensations on his left side; like things were crawling on him. That feeling progressed to a strange numbness; like his body was one step behind the command his brain sent. Leaning against the sink, he readied the pre-measured syringe and jammed it into his thigh though nearly losing his hold on it because his arm and hand was shaking and numb.. Waiting for the relief that never came, (he'd already become desensitized after the dose he'd had the other night) he began to sweat and his heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest. He tried to swat at the brilliantly colored fireflies that danced in front of his eyes. His vision began to narrow. Waves of nausea assaulted him and he wasn't sure whether he was going to pass out or puke. His consciousness faded and the thump he made as he collapsed onto the bathroom floor awoke Susan.

She called to him in the darkness of the room. When he didn't answer, she switched on the bedside light to see him collapsed on the bathroom floor. "Logan" she shouted and sprung from the bed, quickly found her stethoscope and went to his side. "What's wrong?

He was out just over a minute. When he regained some of his senses, she was pressing a stethoscope to his chest. "Logan! Logan, talk to me. Come on Bright eyes, wake up."

He struggled to sit up.

She tried to sound calm,"Tell me what's wrong"

"Headache" he whispered. "Sick!" he sounded urgent. His complexion went from flushed to chalk white and he gagged, succumbing to overwhelming nausea.

Susan used all of her strength to pull him toward the bathtub. He grabbed the edge like his life depended on it and moaned from the pain racking his brain. She stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders to steady him as he was violently sick. "It's ok." she crooned. "Breathe" she told him during a brief lull. Logan deep-breathed in vain trying to stave off more sickness and then his nose began hemorrhaging. She gasped, thinking at first he was vomiting pure blood.

Stomach emptied, rivers of blood pouring from his nose, he hung over the bathtub gagging and dry heaving. The vertigo began to abate and his head still hurt, but not the searing pain from minutes before. "Get me a towel" he asked weakly. Then as he used the towel to staunch the blood spoke, his voice shaky, "I was hoping this wouldn't happen again."

Astounded she asked, "Again! When has this happened before?"

He held up three fingers as he pressed the towel against his nose. His healing was kicking in and he stood and went to the sink.

"You want to tell me about this?" she queried.

"No. But, I guess I've got no choice" he answered then splashed water on his face. He coughed and spat into the sink to clear blood that had run down his throat. Then weary, needing healing sleep, he trudged slowly toward the bed while she hovered next to him.

"The first time was right after I had the wreck. I went for a walk and it was probably too soon. A couple of days later I got hit with it at school. You were at the hospital so I went in to see Hank. I made him promise not to say anything." He left out Thursday night because the medications had worked, so that one didn't count.

"For heavens sake Logan, why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno. With the wedding coming up and you stressing over coming here and feeling bad right now; I didn't think you needed any more."

"Oh I'm going to beat you" she exclaimed! "What did Hank say?"

He didn't answer right away. He'd laid down an ultimatum about the memory implants and now it had come back to haunt him. He sounded defeated when he spoke. "He said he thought the memory chips might have busted loose when I wrecked."

"That's a logical conclusion" she agreed.

"He wanted to do...I don't remember what he called it..."

"Rhinoscopy?"

"Yeah, that sounds right. I told him no."

"Logan, why?"

"Cuz I don't want to go there" he spat. Then he flopped back onto the bed and put his arm over his eyes; his body language declaring the conversation over.

"Bright Eyes, something's very wrong. You've got to..."

Logan sat up and stared her down. Seeing only deep concern and love on her face, he softened. He took a deep breath. "You think I don't know that? What am I supposed to do? All right, ya wanna know what going on in this brain of mine?" His voice was gravely and low with frustration.

"What baby? Please let me help."

"I don't have the guts to deal with this. I can't...deal with...getting cut on."

"Maybe it doesn't need to be that way." Susan tried to reason.

Fear and fury broke free. "I'm not taking that chance." he shouted. "I'd rather die before I submitted to any god-damn torture."

"Logan, medically necessary diagnostics and surgery are not..."

"Shut up will ya. I've had enough." if a look could kill, his would have.

Stunned and hurt by his outburst she remained silent. Now wasn't the time for anything but listening. She simply reached out for his hand and entwined her fingers with his and gave him a loving squeeze.

"I need to sleep." Logan said, the anger drained from his voice

She whispered, "I love you Bright Eyes."

More emotion broke through and he reached to pull her into his arms. "God, I wish you weren't staying here. I need ya, baby." She was the only human being on the planet--make that the universe-- he'd ever show any weakness to.

"I know. I wish I didn't have to. Go to sleep. We'll fix it tomorrow" she soothed, took his face gently in her hands and then she kissed the tip of his nose.

Susan lay awake for a good portion of the remainder of the night. She had no real clue how to fix him, like she'd promised. Handling an oppositional Logan was not going to be easy and she hoped she could finesse him, but prepared herself to pull rank if necessary. He needed to go through the diagnostics Hank recommended and those memory chips needed to be removed. If necessary, she was prepared to "med him down" for as long as it took no matter how much he'd resent it. It didn't take any 'special gift' to sense his complete and utter terror at the prospect of any type of medical anything. _What a lovely way to start a life together-a crisis and being apart, s_he thought.

The next morning was a difficult as Susan feared it would be. Logan felt perfect and feeling perfect equated no problem and therefore no need for discussion. She tried to gently engage him in discussion about the headaches but he evaded every time. Finally she lost her temper and pulled rank on him. "James Andrew Logan, I am the chief ranking medical doctor for the X-Team and if you don't go see Hank as soon as you get back, I _will_ declare you NPQ."

"What the hell does that mean?" he growled

"Not physically qualified for duty; can you say _grounded_?" she added with sarcasm.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Don't _ever _dare me, Logan."

He pushed away from the small kitchen table and paced around the room cursing. She had the power to do just what she said and she was right and he knew it. He muttered, "Fine." then stalked off to take a shower.

When he emerged from the bathroom, considerably calmer, he found her dressing in her uniform. If a woman could look cute in a Navy khaki working uniform, she did. He'd never tell her that-oh yes he would and he did. She smiled wickedly and told him it was fine as long as he remembered to call her Ma'am. He'd been enlisted and she outranked him.

"Dammit" she muttered.

"A problem" he questioned?

"I can't get my skirt zipped." She grunted as she tried to suck her expanding tummy in. "I really didn't want to buy maternities."

Logan stifled a chuckle and tried to come up with the right thing to say.

She looked peeved. "You think it's funny?"

"No" he said, unable to keep from grinning. "Yes" he laughed and dodged the hairbrush that came flying across the room. "Smell that estrogen" he continued laughing.

Her sense of humor returned and she had to laugh. "By the way, it's progesterone."

"I stand corrected, madam" he admitted and laughed again.

She had to report at zero-nine hundred and suddenly occurred to him that they had maybe an hour left together. He felt bad about arguing with her earlier and stared at her was the saddest, lost puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

She shook her head and looked away also realizing time was short. She wanted to go back home with her new husband and start their life together. "Don't" she pleaded.

"Don't what?"

"Do this to us. I am trying so hard to be strong. My resignation request is in. I'll be home soon." Tears pooled in her eyes.

He went to her and held her tight, fighting back his own emotion. He began to kiss her tenderly then more urgently as she responded to him.

"We don't have much time. I've got to report in an hour."

"How long's the drive?"

"Fifteen or twenty minutes."

"We've got enough time" and with that declaration, he swept her off her feet and gently deposited her on the bed and made love to her like there would never be another time. On the back burner of his mind, he really did fear that the failing memory chips might be beyond his healing abilities. He'd read the notes she had uncovered and understood the issues. He knew in his gut that the headaches and everything else were from the chips. He didn't want to be on borrowed time. He wanted a long life with Susan and see the twins grow up and do all that normal- life stuff.

When the parting finally came they were circumspect with their emotions. Susan was on the verge of completely losing it but maintained a brave, I- can- do- anything- for- a- while, façade. Logan settled on stoic even though he wanted to transpose the pain and sadness he felt with anger. Anger was more familiar to cope with than what he was feeling.

"I love you Bright eyes." she said as she left him with a warm, promising kiss.

"I love you too." His face was impassive, except for the tense jaw line; pursed lips and of course his eyes; they expressed everything.

She started to get in the car, when he remembered something. "Wait a sec.." he went to the passenger side and rummaged through the glove box. "I got somethin' for ya. He produced a small jewelry box and fumbled to open it. "This is kinda a wedding present and kinda—just because." He pulled out a gold pendant strung a gold braid chain and placed it around her neck.

"Logan, this is beautiful." She fingered the pendant. "What's the engraving say?"

The pendant had a plus and a minus sign embossed on the front. Under the plus were the words: qu hier and under the minus: qui demain.  
"It's French. Literally translated it says More than yesterday; less than tomorrow. What it means…" His voice cracked. "it means I love you today more than I did yesterday and I'll love you even more tomorrow."

She flew into his arms and began to cry. "I'm going to miss you; I love you so much." He held her tight afraid to say a word because if he did he was going to lose it. After a bit she pulled herself together. "I've done it again; got your shirt all wet."

"It's ok."

She tucked the pendant beneath her blouse and smiled sadly. "I've got to go."

He nodded and pulled her to him for a final kiss. "See ya, babe" he said as he closed the car door for her then watched her drive away.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER THIRTY

Logan got back to Westchester just in time for the Monday afternoon staff meeting and planned on hooking up with Hank right after the meeting. He didn't know that Susan had done an end run on him and already called Hank about his headaches.

Logan was responsible for briefing the Team about progress on the training camp. That whole thing had been hopelessly stalled by the State of Connecticut and Army Corp of Engineers; permits and environmental issues and just on and on. Unfortunately there was nothing that could be done except wait on the paperwork process and springtime opening was becoming more unlikely. At least he had most of the curriculum and training procedures worked out. Toward the end of the staff meeting, he began to feel uneasy and agitated. He shifted and fidgeted in his chair.

Charles picked up it. "Logan, is something wrong?"

"No" he lied. A few minutes later that dizzy sensation and the first stabs of pain shot through his head. Trying to mask it he leaned his head into his hands and pressed on his temples with his thumbs.

The team was absorbed in something Scott was briefing them about so no one noticed Logan. It wasn't unusual for him to act bored or even pace around during meetings. In frustration, increasing pain and the first inklings of vertigo he muttered, "Oh shit, not now."

"You got a problem, Logan?" Scott snapped angrily.

Logan was about to retort in kind when he suddenly became rigid and passed out cold. He hit the floor hard and in moments was twitching and thrashing in a full-blown grand mal seizure. Hank was first to Logan's side but had to dodge the claws that ejected as he convulsed.

The seizure lasted only a minute and he moaned as he regained his senses.

"Amigo, Logan" Vic Marquez, the amphibious X-Man and close friend of Logan's hovered close by.

Logan tried to sit up."Wha--- happen?" His words were slurred.

Vic pushed him down but it wasn't really necessary as more blinding pain shot through his head. "God, it hurts."

"Sorry my friend" Hank consoled. "You've just earned yourself a suite in the best private hospital this side of town and most of your entertainment will come from a battery of tests..."

"Go to hell, Beast." Logan tried to growl, but there was no strength behind it.

"Such appreciation! Logan, you just had what's known as a grand-mal seizure. So if you're thinking about being oppositional, as your bride so eloquently phrased it, forget it. You are effectively NPQ until I find out what the hell's going on with you."

Logan nodded, beaten for the moment. "Get me down there fast. This ain't over" he warned as vertigo and nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

"Keep it together Wolverine. I've got some good drugs that might help" Hank promised.

Aware of Logan's description of the previous attacks, Hank had enough sense to grab a trash can on the way down to the med lab. It was a wise move because he started vomiting and bleeding from his nose on the elevator and didn't quit until they got to the med lab and Hank dosed him with a syringe full of Compazine.

Susan called Hank as she drove back to her apartment that evening. "Hey! Did that man of mine stop by?" she asked maneuvering through traffic on Wisconsin Avenue.

"You might say that" Hank answered in a serious tone.

She immediately pick up on it. "What's up Hank?"

"Sue, tell me again about his attack last night. Is it possible he could have seized?"

"Geez Hank, it's possible but I didn't see the whole thing. Why?"

"Because he pulled a grand-mal on me this afternoon."

She yelled into the phone "What?"

"You heard me."

"Oh God. Well, if he did it was only a partial temporal. Any differing theories on what we're dealing with here?" she continued.

"Well I'd be tempted to say some sort of post-concussion syndrome, except for the epistaxis; that doesn't fit the profile."

"I agree. Hank, what about those micro chips?"

"I'm fairly convinced of that. Where are the records from Logan's wreck?"

"You can access them on Med Net." she told him and gave her pass code.

As the conversation continued Hank accessed and scanned the records from his computer. "Yeah, this is just as I thought; if he hadn't had that adamantium skull of his I doubt his healing abilities would have saved him."

"So what do we do?"

"I may have already done it. When you two consulted with me a few weeks ago, I was curious and took the liberty to keep digging. Sue, are you on secure connection?"

"No but when I get back to my apartment I can make it semi-secure."

"All right. Call me back."

"Will do. Thanks."

When she called back a few minutes later, Charles conferenced in with them.

Hank took control giving a thorough briefing on everything he had uncovered about the micro chips implanted in Logan's head. They used the actual electrical impulses that a brain creates to power themselves. They also created an electrical field of their own that facilitate the memory dampening effect. Another sinister function designed into the chips programming was behavior control that could be activated directly or by remote.

The chips had been designed to work in alignment and if one of those chips had become misaligned the balance of the electrical field would be compromised. That could well be the reasons for the headaches, vertigo and seizures. The epistaxis or nosebleeds was a bit more puzzling. Perhaps one or both of the chips had dislodged enough for Logan's body to be trying to reject them.

"This is all rather empirical, is it not, Henry?"

"Not rather emipirical, Charles; this is a best- guess, shot- in- the- semi-dark. I'm not sure I could diagnostically prove it. I'd only get partials with a CT; an MRI is out of the question. I could scope him, but I'm still not sure I'd be able to tell anything."

"So now what?" Susan asked

"I've got no choice but to run as many diagnostics as I can on. The odds of anything else though are probably zilch."

"Hank, I think we all agree about the problem. The question is what to do about it? The data warns that trying to tamper or remove them would at the very least do serious damage if not kill Logan" she reminded him.

"There's evidence that these things can be neutralized. It's actually fairly simple, _if_ you have the programming codes."

"What?" Susan exclaimed

"What do you mean, Henry" Charles asked at the same moment?

"I mean, I believe the chip designer is still around."

"You mean Harlan Peabody" Susan interrupted?

"Yes and he'd have the programming codes. If we can locate him and enlist his help, we're home free" Hank said confidently.

"What are the consequences of leaving this alone?" Charles asked

"Logan will get worse. Remember the chips are supposed to be in alignment and we're assuming his symptoms stem from a misalignment. For all we know, if there was great enough misalignment the destruct-sequence could be initiated or that may be what's going on now."

"Oh sweet Jesus." Susan gasped "Where is Peabody?"

"That's the part of don't have an answer to yet. But I'll have it shortly" Hank answered

"Care to speculate on how much time we have?" Charles asked.

"Your crystal ball's as good as mine." Hank answered. "Enough time to locate Peabody and get those codes, I hope."

"Do I need to come back?" Susan asked.

"Honestly Sue, there isn't anything else to be done right now. I'm keeping Logan on a heavy dose of phenobarbitol for as long as it works and rotating pain meds. I tried to convince him to stay here so we all can eye on him but you know Logan; I'd have to chain him down."

"He's not by himself?" Susan sounded alarmed.

"Not at all. I hope you don't mind, but I'm bunking in at your place" Hank answered.

"That's fine. Sorry I didn't prepare the guest room."

"Like you knew! It's a nice place you two have." Hank said

"Thanks. You'll call me if anything changes?"

"You know I will" Hank assured "and try not to worry."

"Yeah right. That's like asking the tide not to come in" she replied with a nervous laugh.

Logan didn't mind being 'babysat' by Hank. They turned it into kind of guys bonding deal and it distracted him a little from Susan's absence. Logan, Hank, Vic and Kurt played poker one evening. Another night the same crew plus Scott, watched some John Wayne movies.

He tried to keep up with as much of his normal routine as he could but the heavy doses of drugs took a toll. With the side effects he couldn't drive, fly or do anything strenuous. It really bothered him that he couldn't have his beer. When he griped about it to Hank he found little sympathy. Hank even informed him that it was probably just as well that Susan was away.

"Why's that?" Logan inquired

"Cause you're NPQ for marital relations."

"You're full of it, Beast."

"I kid you not, my friend."

Logan didn't have a snappy come-back. Must be the drugs, he thought to himself. A few minutes later..."You're joking, right?"

"'bout what?"

"No sex."

Hank laughed heartily. "Actually, I'm not."

"Geez!. Screw that." Logan answered as he took his dinner plate over to the sink.

Hank was having only marginal luck tracking down Harlan Peabody. The man had retired but did not seem to stay in one place very long and Hank seemed to be one or two steps behind in finding him.

Thursday afternoon Logan had been studying in his office when he felt a change in the level of pain. His dull, background headache was getting stronger and harder to ignore. He went straight down to the med lab and Hank dosed him with a combination of several pain killers. The drugs controlled the pain better but Logan was fairly stoned out of his mind.

Hank and Logan had supper and watched hockey at Vic and Electra's home. Logan's last dose of whatever pain med Hank shot him up with wore off and pain and vertigo hit him fast. One minute he was spacing out and mostly oblivious to the pain and the next minute the room spun and seemed to smack him in the face.

Electra observed his pallor go from normal to chalk white. "Miho, are you hurting?"

He nodded then leaned back into the couch trying to keep himself together but couldn't. The vertigo and pain was making him sick and it was going to happen NOW. He stumbled to the kitchen sink and same pattern repeated; puke his guts, nosebleed; then it quit. At least the phenobarbitol kept him from seizing.

Hank began to have a bad feeling and suggested that they stay over at the med lab that night. Logan didn't argue, but he'd have rather slept in his old room as opposed to the med-lab. Hanks intuition was right on target because in the middle of the night, Logan suffered a long and violent seizure followed by another attack of vomiting and hemorrhaging. Hank raised the phenobarbitol dosage which calmed the seizures for a while.

As one of the micro-chips had become dislodged and severely misaligned with its counterpart, it set off an electrical storm going on inside Logan's head; thus, the seizures. To complicate matters, his body was trying to reject the misaligned chip; just like when he'd been shot and his body rejected the bullet, his body was trying to push the chip out through a natural opening between the brain and sinus passages and the process was accelerating. His healing powers were stressed to the maximum. He'd vomited while seizing and aspirated and between healing from that, constant head pain and vertigo, medication side effects and the damage the micro-chips were causing, he was pretty much out of it.

Instead of a day or two between attacks, it was now just hours. By noon, Logan had suffered four more seizures despite unheard of doses of anti-convulsants and there was no pain medication left that helped. He was vomiting uncontrollably forcing Hank to utilize a naso-gastric tube to keep him from aspirating yet again and place inhibitor devices on his arms to prevent his claws from ejecting with every seizure.

Hank was facing the difficult choice of deeply sedating Logan. The lesser drugs didn't cut it any more. Logan didn't want that. As scared as he was about what was happening right now, it was nothing compared to the terror he felt at the prospect of being sedated and hooked up to God only knows what. His choice in the matter became moot when he lapsed into another seizure and stopped breathing which did resume when the seizure stopped but he didn't completely regain his senses before another seizure took hold.

Hank pushed a strong continuous cocktail of drugs into Logan's IV and the seizures seemed to minimize. Electra attached EEG to his scalp which indicated a lot of frantic, abnormal electrical activity going on and still too frequently his body would tremble and twitch from the electrical storm going on inside his head.

It was time to hit the panic button! Hank alerted Charles that things were going bad very fast. "Can you rearrange Cerebro to track a single individual, non-mutant?" he asked.

"It's difficult, but can be done." was Charles' answer.

"Do it then. I can't stop Logan's seizures and his brain will fry if we can't help him now."

Charles set to work while Hank called Susan to deliver the grim prognosis. He dialed her number. "Hey lady."

"What's wrong?"

"He's gone status epilepticus."

"Please don't tell me that Hank" panic sounded in her voice; frightfully aware this new turn of events—a state of near- constant seizures—was ominous.

"We're doing everything we can. Charles is using Cerebro to find Peabody and I'll drag him back by his balls if I have too."

"I'm taking leave. I'll be there tomorrow. Can you fax me the medical necessity leave paperwork."

"Already done. Your C.O. has it."

"Thank you. See you soon. Try to tell Logan I..."

"That you love him? I'll try." Hank didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd put Logan on strong paralytic drugs to induce deep coma though she probably knew it anyway.

"Thanks" she choked back her fear "Bye."


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Charles finally located Harlan Peabody in Arizona and called Scott, Kurt, Storm and Vic together and ordered them to fly out and retrieve Dr. Peabody as quickly as possible by any means necessary. They didn't need an order; every one of them was itching to get their hands on him to wrench the cure for their teammate out of him.

The Blackbird, cloaked by Storm's weather magic, landed on a flat, dusty, open area near a golf course of the posh retirement community that Harlan Peabody had settled in. They hadn't suited up in their uniforms because plan was to get in, get the person or information they needed and get back as fast as possible without attracting attention or causing an incident. Kurt and Storm stayed back and manned the jet. His outward appearance would attract plenty of attention and they needed Storm to continue with weather making for cover.

Scott and Vic found Peabody's house, a one story, Spanish influence house on the golf course with little effort. Scott rang the door bell and pounded on the door simultaneousl but there was no answer. They split up and walked around opposing sides of the house and met in the richly landscaped backyard overlooking the golf course. On the putting green was an elderly but fit man that closely matched the description of Peabody.

"Hate to mess up his shot." Scott said sarcastically to Vic as they both headed toward the green.

"Let's not" Vic said quietly but earnestly. "We might just get somewhere with old guy if we don't piss him off."

"Worth a try." Scott agreed.

Peabody sunk his putt on the first try. That's when both Scott and Vic, who had inched closer to him, called out "nice shot."

Peabody looked up at the two men. "Thank you. Can I assist you with something?"

"Are you Dr. Harlan Peabody?"

"Perhaps" he answered with a roll of his eyes and shrug of shoulders. "What pharmaceutical company do you two boys represent" he asked sarcastically? He as often hounded by pharmaceutical and medical research companies eager to purchase the patents he'd amassed over his long career. Peabody had a perfectly 'legal' career as a leading bio-tech scientist and invented many cutting edge innovations in the development of computerized prosthetics, artificial optic nerves, advances in cochlear implants and that was just a small listing of the beneficial things he'd done.

"We're not from a pharmaceutical company." Vic answered.

"But we have come to talk to you about micro chips" Scott continued. "specifically the kind that go in people's brains."

Peabody scowled. "I'll be glad to put you in touch with my attorney. He can show you how ironclad the patents are gentlemen."

"I don't think your attorney has any patents on file concerning the Weapons X program." Scott spat out.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Peabody answered icily.

"Specifically a project codenamed Wolverine" Scott added.

"As I said gentlemen, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap, Peabody" Vic hissed. "We already know you were involved in the program and what you did."

"What are you then? Interpol?" Peabody asked

"No."

"What do you want then?" Peabody eased toward his golf cart. He kept a handgun in his golf bag.

"We need to know how to remove the micro chips you implanted into Logan."

"Logan? Who is...? Oh. Logan. That was Wolverine's real name. Let's me think; it was... Jim Logan, if I recall." Peabody was stalling for time to reach his gun. In one smooth move he placed his putter in the bag and reached for the gun at the same time then turned slowly and raised the weapon at Scott.

Scott and Vic both put their hands in the air and went completely still.

"I don't know how you gentlemen found me or how you came by your information but I'll hand it to you, some of it's pretty darn accurate. There's one detail that ruins it though; Wolverine was a failure and terminated or maybe the correct term was self-destruct."

"That's were you're wrong, Peabody. Wolverine didn't self-destruct, as you put it. He's quite alive, though not well; in part thanks to you." Scott informed him matter- of- factly.

"I need to know this because?"

Scott heaved a frustrated exhale and an increasingly nervous Peabody cocked the gun.

"Whoa. I'm unarmed." Scott said

"Look, all we need to know is how to remove the chips" Vic cut in.

Peabody laughed. "All you need to know is how to remove the chips" he parroted. "You think I'm a fool? If Wolverine is still alive, which I'm still not convinced, there is no way in hell I'd let that happen. Jim Logan has too much detailed knowledge of Weapons X. He remembers, blabs to the world and I end up in jail or on death row. Sorry, gentlemen, I won't help you."

"I've had enough of this" Scott whispered to Vic. "When I say, you move left."

"Mmmm, hmmm." Vic replied.

" Now." Scott said. Vic dodged left as Scott dodged right, lifted his visor and zapped Peabody with just enough power to render him unconscious. The gun fired, but only shattered a window in Peabody's own house.

"Kurt, we could use a little help." Vic said into the X-phone. A moment later, Kurt appeared in a puff of black smoke.

"Vhat can I do?"

"Would you mind smoking our guest back to the jet? It looks like were going to have to do this the hard way" Vic answered. "Scott and I'll meet you back at the jet in a few minutes."

Kurt went to the unconscious Peabody, lifted him in a bear hug and disappeared in another puff of black smoke. Vic and Scott sprinted back to the jet and Storm had the jet ready for takeoff. They flew fast as the jet could do back to Westchester.

A very angry Peabody regained his senses in flight. Secured tightly to a seat, there was not much he could do. "I don't know what you hope to accomplish, gentlemen. I take it you are some sort of mutant?" Peabody addressed Scott.

"You are correct." Scott answered.

By the way, have you names; an affiliation of some sort?"

"I'm Scott Summers and our pilot and co-pilot is Victor Marquez and Ororo Munro and seated to your left is Kurt Wagner." Scott could see no harm in providing some basic information but wasn't going to go into their affiliation. The professor could do that, if necessary.

Peabody took in his surroundings. The jet was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Whatever organization his kidnappers were with was no fly-by-night group and it was not lost on him that Scott didn't answer his all his questions. He did want to know one important bit of information. "I really must know, how did you learn of my involvement with Weapons X?"

"We've seen the data on the memory chips you implanted in Logan" Vic answered.

"That's not possible" he sputtered. "There were only two places that information was recorded. I have one copy and the other was destroyed."

"I guess you're mistaken" Scott answered smugly.

"Not likely. I'm sure I'll learn the explanation before this is all over. Where are you taking me?"

"Westchester, New York."

"I see. Who are you taking me to?"

No answer was spoken.

"You've said twice that you want me to tell you how to remove the micro-chips. Why?" Peabody continued probing.

Scott swung his seat around to face Peabody. "Because something's gone wrong and they are killing Logan. From what we've read of your data, you're the only one who can help."

Peabody scoffed. "If you're so familiar with my data, then you know that if tampered with, they're designed to self-destruct and eliminate the host."

"We know that." Scott said angrily. "But you're going to help us keep that from happening."

"There's not much I can do." Peabody said matter-of-factly.

"Can or will do?" Scott asked. "We know that you can disable the self-destruct mechanism."

"You_ have_ done your homework! But like I said before, if I do as you wish, I'm signing my own death warrant."

The conversation was going circular again. Scott didn't want to tip his hand anymore. Peabody didn't need to know that Charles Xavier would be able to get the information whether Peabody wanted to cooperate or not.

"Why is Wolverine so important to you or your organization?" Peabody began another track.

"He's a friend and a colleague" Vic answered

Peabody laughed aloud. "Are we talking about the same Wolverine? The one I know is a friend of no one. Let me tell you about James Logan, a.k.a. the Wolverine. The guy was a recruiter for the program. You know what a recruiter was? He was a paid mutant-hunter. It was his job to go out and find the subjects needed to build the program."

What Peabody did not reveal were the details of Wolverine's collateral duties as a recruiter. Failures of any sort were not an option. A 'recruit' was successfully brought into the program or eliminated. "Wolverine was a creature with no conscience or morals. His only flaw as I remember was that he was somewhat of a loose cannon; prone to shall we say, unpredictable behaviors at unpredictable times. Those micro-chips were partly designed to cure that little flaw. Unfortunately..." Peabody almost slipped up and said _I_ never was able to get that part of their programming to work. "The behavior modification programming designed in the chips never seemed to work for very long."

Treading on territory that Scott really had no right, he asked Peabody a question that everyone, including Logan wanted to know. "Why was Logan experimented on the way he was?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"He doesn't remember."

Peabody smiled smugly. "So the memory dampening function still works! Gentlemen, this little narrative is over." Peabody said no more until they landed and deplaned in the underground hangar.

Meanwhile, Susan had made it back up to Westchester. She greeted Charles and Hank with a warm embrace and then proceeded to Logan's side. For the moment he was stable and calm, albeit totally sedated. She leaned over him, smoothed his hair. "I'm here, Bright eyes." He gave no response. Staying by his side, she then asked about his status and the whereabouts of Peabody.

"What you see is what you get" Hank answered her truthfully. "He's stable for the moment but" he pointed to the EEG read out, "there's still a lot of seizure activity going on."

She nodded in understanding. "What can I do?"

"You're doing it. We're holding until the Team gets back with Peabody."

Another seizure stormed through Logan's brain. Even heavily sedated, he still twitched and trembled. It was another long one and his complexion went dusky from lack of oxygen.

"Dammit!" Hank swore. "Know what you can help with, Dr. Harris? Help me intubate; I've got to vent him; not having hypoxia add to the damage."

She didn't answer but showed her agreement by quickly gowning and gloving. Standing at Logan's head, She tilted his head back; fully extending his airway and then paused for a moment to visualize what she needed to do. Slowly and carefully she inserted the endo- tracheal tubing into his mouth and eased it down his throat. "I'm in." she said.

Hank handed over a heavier tube and she attached it to the one protruding from his mouth. A small amount of oxygen flowed, evidenced by the rise of his chest.

"I'm going to set this on 25." Hank said. "That way he's doing most of it on his own, but when he seizes, he'll have enough."

"God help us if he comes- to hooked up to this. Hank, how often are you rotating the sedatives?"

"Often enough, so far."

Susan was looking a little pale. The long drive, stress and early second trimester were extracting a toll.

"You ok?" Hank looked concerned.

"Yes. I could sit down though." she answered.

"Good idea" he agreed and led her to a nearby chair. "I don't need two patients."

"I'm sorry. I don't usually flake out."

"You don't usually intubate your husband."

She nodded and blushed in embarrassment.

"Get yourself together and then go get something to eat, Dr. Harris." Hank ordered.

Charles met the Team in the hangar. It was his intention to have Peabody go no further than the hangar that way, he would only need to erase only a much smaller portion of Peabody's memory. He hoped he wouldn't have to resort to such despicable tactics, but he was prepared to if he couldn't reason with Peabody.

Peabody would not be reasoned with and stood firmly uncooperative even when Charles assured him that he would be free to go about his business. Charles offered to make sure that the whole affair never went beyond this place.

The word from the med-lab was that time was running out. Logan was getting steadily worse. The failing micro-chips were beginning to affect the portions of his brain that controlled life functions. His blood pressure, heart rate and respirations were fluctuating wildly. One minute, his blood pressure was so high they were afraid he'd stroke. Then it would bottom out along with his heart rate, so there was fear he'd arrest and he'd become totally dependent on the ventilator to breathe.

"I'm giving you one last opportunity to help us voluntarily." Charles said menacingly.

Peabody remained firm.

"Very well. Scott, Vic will you please see that Dr. Peabody is safely prepared."

What Charles was being forced to do was extremely serious and reprehensible to him. He was going to go into Peabody's mind and sift through it for what he needed. In a sense, he was raping the man's mind. Could you rape someone gently? There was no other choice. He had to have the coding to disable the micro chips that were destroying Logan. Charles wheeled over to the stretcher that Peabody was restrained to. He jerked, turned his head away. He didn't know what Charles was going to do and was rightly terrified. Charles injected him with a sedative and in minutes he was sleeping.

"God, forgive me" Charles said to himself as he placed his hands on either side of Peabody's head. Surfing Peabody's mind caused him no physical pain and since he had no mutant abilities, he had no resistance to Charles' probing. That made the task easier, but not less disturbing and unpleasant for Charles. It only took about fifteen minutes for Charles to find what he needed. Before he exited Peabody's mind, he made it that he would remember nothing of what transpired. When Peabody awoke, he would be on a chaise by his swimming pool in Arizona.

Charles, as fast as his wheel chair could go, headed for the med lab. "We need not remove the chips." he shouted as he burst through the doors. "The codes will disable them and they should pose no more problems."

"How do we transmit the codes?"

"Computer, EEG leads and some very fine copper wire. Have you been able to pinpoint where the chips are?" Charles asked.

"One of them's right where it was implanted. I can get to it easily. The other chip has migrated. I can go in where it was implanted, but I don't know what damage I might cause trying to find it and hook up our antennas." Hank replied.

"We're not going to do any more harm than what's happening as we speak." Charles said with certainty. Then he looked Hank straight in the eyes. "Tell me we aren't too late."

"I don't know, Charles."

**Authors Note: I'm going to leave you hanging for a bit! I've learned about the cliff-hanger concept from two fanfic writers I admire. **

**  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**Authors Note: I was going to make every body wait a solid week or better to resolve the latest cliff hanger. But since it's written, what the heck. Besides I had to take a sick day from my real job, so may as well write and post.**

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Charles worked the computer while Susan assisted Hank and monitored Logan. They were going in laparoscopically through the very small opening between the Zygoma and Sphenoid region of his skull, more commonly known as the temple. They had to locate the chips, then attach very fine copper wire and then attach the wire to an EEG lead which was plugged into the computer. Once that was accomplished, Charles would input and transmit the coding to the chips, disabling them.

Everyone was acutely aware of the known risks though no one wanted to speculate on the unknowns. It really didn't matter; this was the only hope. Without doing this Logan was most likely going to die but if by some chance he survived; his healing kept him alive, odds were he wouldn't have much of a usable brain left.

Locating and wiring the chip on the left side of his head was simple. It was exactly where Peabody's notes said it would be. The right chip proved more difficult. Hank guessed from Logan's nosebleeds that it migrated into the sinus cavity and he was correct. The difficult part was snaking the laparoscope through his brain without causing catastrophic damage. Some damage was inevitable, but with his healing factor, it would hopefully be inconsequential.

It took Hank a good forty minutes to slowly get to the chip, attach the copper wire and retreat and it seemed like they were all holding their breaths for the duration. "Ok. We've got a broadcast network set up" he quipped. He was deadly serious, but used humor to cope. "Professor Xavier, send the codes, if you please."

All eyes were glued to the EEG monitor as signals sent from the computer registered on the monitor. Suddenly there was a great spike in electrical activity and Logan's body reacted with a violent spasm. Just as everyone thought they'd blown his brain out, the readings became completely normal.

"I think we did it." Hank said quietly.

"Thank God." Susan said. "Hank I could kiss you."

"Anytime, lady." Hank laughed. "On second thought, while Logan's still comatose would be healthiest."

She looked toward Charles. "Charles, thank you."

"You're quite welcome. I'll leave you to finish up." He was anxious to leave, still feeling distressed over what he'd been forced to do to Peabody and needed some time to himself. He wheeled out of the med lab, contacted the Team on their way back to Arizona and let them know Logan was ok and then retreated to his suite.

In the med lab Hank decided to go in and remove the one chip that had moved from the implant site because Logan's body was most likely going to keep rejecting it and the process wouldn't be too pleasant. "Want to help me give your husband a nose job" he asked Susan?

"Not really; but I suppose I must."

He could reach the chip through Logan's sinuses as bone structure deep inside was not adamantium bonded though he would have to break through it to extract the chip. "This is going to be messy. Are you up to it, Sue?"

"Just get on with it. I'm worried he's going to compensate for the anesthesia at any moment."

"Me too" he agreed and began the procedure.

Fifteen minutes later, he had the chip. Right on time, Logan's healing kicked in and the bleeding stopped and bruising disappeared. Susan stopped the anesthesia and decreased the oxygen to the vent to see if he was back to breathing on his own. He was, so she unhooked the vent and extracted the trache tube. His vitals and brain activity were normal so all they needed was to wait for was him to regain consciousness.

"I'm going to sit with him, Hank. Why don't you get some rest?" Susan said

Hank nodded as he peeled of his scrubs and mask. "I'm going to go analyze this chip. Call me if you need me."

A few minutes later, Logan began to stir and she stood to make eye contact. "Logan, open your eyes. Come on, I want to see those bright eyes of yours."

He opened his eyes and struggled to focus then smiled. His voice was weak and rough from the ventilator and anesthesia. "Hey babe, what are you doing here? What happened?"

"It's a long story. How do you feel?" She smiled back and smoothed his hair and face.

"No more headache; not dizzy; guess I'm ok. How long have I been here?"

"Over forty eight hours. What's the last thing you remember?"

He thought for a minute "I was arguing with Hank over something. He wanted to knock me out. Guess he did."

"Yeah, he did. You didn't give him much choice, you know."

He nodded. "Probably not. Must have been pretty bad for you to come back."

"It was." She looked like she might cry.

"Com'ere" he said, reached and pulled her onto the narrow bed next to him. "Don't cry. I'm ok now, right?"

She nodded.

"I'm sleepy, Sue. Stay with me for a while."

"I know. Logan, I've got to get back to DC soon. When you wake up I won't be here."

He understood but he still didn't like it. Just before drifting off into a long, healing sleep he mumbled "Love ya, darlin'." He drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly and then became as still as a hibernating bear.

"I love you too" she answered, not certain whether he heard or not.


	18. Chapter 18

**Authors notes: I have to give a huge amount of credit to my husband who helped me edit this and then asked if he could do some rewriting. So about twenty-five percent of this segment is his. Thanks to Rhiannon UK who encouraged me to expand on a few paragraphs and had been very supportive and helpful.**

**I completely ignored comic-verse influences for a huge chunk. You comic-verse fans will immediately pick up on this and I hope you're not** **too offended**.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Over the weeks that followed removal of the memory chips, Logan began experiencing a flood of memories. The biggest change in the pattern was that he now experienced good memories and discovered that digging into the trunk he'd brought back from Canada earlier that summer acted as a catalyst. One evening, he pulled out a beat- up copy of the Velveteen Rabbit. Inside the cover, written in red crayon was the scrawling of a small child with the only recognizable letter being **J, **even though it was backwards. Below the childish scribble, written in adult lettering and in French: _Happy Birthday, James. Love, Mamma and Daddy. August 12, 1953_.

He settled back and started reading what had been his favorite childhood story. Anybody could have read that to him a hundred times a day and it still wouldn't have been enough when he was three. He laughed at and to himself then couldn't help but wonder if his kids would be the same way? He hoped to God they would. For sure, a copy of the Velveteen Rabbit was going to be in their book collection.

_What the heck!_ he thought, grabbed his keys and headed out to a nearby bookstore. He felt out of place in the children's book department for a minute or two but quickly got over it as he searched for the titles he wanted. The Velveteen Rabbit, of course_; nice to see_ _the design of the cover hadn't changed in fifty years_. Goodnight Moon, A Childs Garden of Verses, Tales of Peter Rabbit, Winnie the Pooh, and Mother Gooses Nursery Rhymes got the little library of to a decent start. He bought two copies of each and the cute little teenaged sales girl looked at him oddly but nodded and smiled in understanding when he told her it was for twins.

On the drive home, it struck him funny that many of his favorites had been stories about Rabbits. He shook his head, wondering about that? Then he remembered something that made him laugh out loud; so much so he almost had to pull over. Damn, if he didn't have the nickname of Rabbit when he was very little! He'd gotten it because he was always moving, practically jumping, from one place or thing to another all the time. (he was probably hyperactive, but that's a whole different issue.) He also had the habit, and still did, of scrunching up and twitching his nose; just like a rabbit. There was even a picture of him in a rabbit Halloween costume. He remembered seeing it recently, but until now, didn't think much of it.

The memories weren't all good. Thoughts of Alkali Lake were stirring again. He needed to know the_ real_ why of what happened to him and needed to put it_ completely_ behind him. He never believed for a second that he'd volunteered for what Stryker had done to him and didn't believe the knowledge about Weapons X was completely erased from his memory; but how could he tell what was real and what was an implanted memory?

He had to deal with this without Susan because was fairly certain it was going to be as gut wrenching as it was the first time; possibly unleashing those feral reactions and there was no way he would subject her to that insanity. He finally asked Charles to go through the discs with him and use that mind-link thing to help sort it all out.

In the privacy of his office, Charles carefully considered Logan's request. "Logan I'll only do this if you agree to therapy"

Logan became immediately defensive. "Why?" He just wanted to get through it and be done as fast as possible.

"I've seen the discs and know what you went through the first time you saw them."

Logan looked stunned and furious. He bolted out of the chair and paced. "How?" he growled. "What else do you know and haven't bothered to clue me in on?"

"Susan shared them when you were in Canada. She was afraid and she asked my advice and when she made the decision to go forward and give you them, she asked me to keep a telepathic link to you."

"Jesus Christ!" Logan muttered at the realization of being manipulated—again!

Charles read his thoughts. "No, that's not the intent. Susan didn't know how you'd react given the gravity of it all."

Logan's anger and sense of being betrayed was getting the better of him and he wasn't listening to Charles. It was all he could do to keep from slamming his fist into the wall.

**Logan!** Charles boomed into Logan's mind telepathically. **Step out of your own damned self-centeredness now. **

"Get the fuck out of my head, then" he bellowed.

Moderating his voice, Charles replied, "Only if you'll listen." The two men stared at each other waiting for something to give. Logan struggled inwardly looking for a shred of calm. When Charles sensed he'd found it, he continued. "I suppose you could call Susan's consulting with me manipulation but you know as well as I that wasn't the intent. I'm going to be blunt, Logan, she was afraid of you…"

Logan nodded tensely, completely understanding her or any ones fear of his reactions.

"….and she was afraid that when you made the connection between her and her father it would tear you two apart." Charles became silent waiting for a response from Logan.

Logan thought back to the night he'd gone through those discs and vividly remembered the consuming hatred, murderous rage, nearly unbearable emotional pain that he'd felt. He remembered the shame he'd felt for what he'd almost done to her. "You know what happened" he finally said; the inflection in his voice was both a question and a statement.

"Actually, no" Charles answered. "I do up to a very limited point but when you're in certain states, your mind puts up blocks that telepathy cannot penetrate."

Logan cocked his eyebrow in surprise. He didn't know that about himself. Feeling a bit less violated, he asked again, "Why therapy?"

"Because you need it. Your usual coping techniques are quite frankly immature and dangerous."

Logan raised both eyebrows and responded with "Oh!" He didn't know what else to say. He felt like he'd just had his bluff called but quickly recovered his wits and couldn't resist a little sarcasm. "So what do ya want me to do, learn to meditate?"

"That's an option" Charles answered, aware that he'd made a slight inroad. "Shall we proceed with the mind link" he asked and motioned Logan to the chair? Logan nodded, made himself as comfortable as possible and leaned toward Charles' outstretched hands.

"Before we begin," he spoke soothingly " I want to establish the ground rules. What's off limits, Logan?"

The question threw him for a moment. After debating for a moment, he finally decided it was time to just get it_ all_ over with. "Nothing. I gotta know who I was and I can't do it alone."

"This could take a very long time. Do you think breaking things into session would be better?"

"Maybe" Logan conceded. "Can we see how it goes?"

Charles nodded. "We need a code thought to break the connection should things become too intense. What word or thought gives you a sense of peace?"

"Susan." Logan answered immediately.

Charles could have guessed even before he'd asked. He placed his hands on the sides of Logan's head, closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Logan could feel the energy of Charles mind flow into his. He initially tensed; the intimacy of it was almost too much. He sensed Charles asking him to relax and find his center and after a few minutes found he could. Indeed, it took several very intense, psychologically painful sessions over a few days.

_Ultimately Logan recalled that he'd been with an organization, who's name he didn't remember, that Weapons X was a_ _part of since he separated from the Canadian military. William Stryker had indeed recruited him originally as a spy (Wolverine was his code name) but when the true nature of his talents or mutation became fully revealed the scope of his 'duties' expanded._

_In those early days the organization had been quite different. Its mission was to gather up and train 'gifted' persons to defend allied governments against terrorism from rogue mutant groups. Not long after he'd joined and unknown to him, internal politics and leadership changes drastically altered its mission. _

_Logan's base of operation had been Japan where he'd immersed himself in Japanese culture; specifically ancient Samurai tradition, found himself a wife and started a family. _

_When the organization wanted him and his little family to transfer to Canada, his wife Mariko, was reluctant to leave so soon after their son had been born. Logan declined the transfer based on her wishes and because he didn't like the direction the organization was going. _

_His wife and son were killed and he suffered multiple severe injuries in a suspicious auto accident. Heartbroken from the loss of his family, he transferred and ended up assigned to Alkali Lake. When he accepted the assignment, he 'ceased to exist'. That's why his mother got the communication from what she'd thought was the government declaring him missing and presumed dead in the Beirut Marine Barracks bombing; in reality it never happened—to him anyway. _

_He thought his duties at Alkali Lake would involve training with an elite group of mutant operatives but it didn't take long to realize that the assignment was a ruse. He and about fifty other mutants were being subjected to physical challenges, medical tests and mental conditioning beyond anything reasonable. They were told it was necessary to condition them for this elite team they were to be a part of, if they made it. _

_He and the others were mere lab rats. He put in for a transfer which was denied and was informed that there were no transfers; the assignment was for life! The organization, realizing his growing discontentment, really came down on him with brainwashing and re-education protocols; they drugged him out of his mind and tortured him to reinforce who was in control._

_Despite their attempts at controlling him, he seemed to beat the brainwashing and re-education techniques. He'd be 'obedient' for a period of time, perform whatever 'assignments' they gave him flawlessly but then became desensitized to whatever drug or technique they used. Desensitized meant nightmares of the hideous, violent, evil things they made him do; desensitized meant he'd lapse into the blackest of depressions and self-mutilation and became even more unpredictable and violent. The organization eventually 'solved' his problem with brain implants._

_Logan was chosen to have his bones bonded with the adamantium for a couple of reasons. He looked normal, therefore could easily infiltrate targets without rousing suspicion. His healing abilities seemed boundless as proven by the extensive testing he'd been subjected to; he was the most likely candidate to survive the bonding process. _

The reality of it was Logan was not part of Weapons X, he became Weapon X; a nearly indestructible killing machine disguised as a man.

As the sessions progressed, digging up these memories turned out to be more painful than either he or Charles realized. Logan began experiencing symptoms of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. One minute he felt on edge like he needed to be hyper-vigilant; in the next minute, murderously angry; barely in control of the berserker animal in him. At other times he felt numb and completely detached then lapse into depression, self-loathing and thoughts of suicide. Then there were the nightmares; every night, all night long .One of the most hellish nightmares torturing his sleep was the one of his wife and sons' death.

_They'd been driving on steep and winding road in the mountains, heading for a family vacation, the first since six month old Tad was born. On a downhill slope, the brakes failed. He tried in vain to steer the car into the side of the road, forcing it to crash into rock, but that was a better option than plunging over the cliff on the other side of the road. The car picked too much speed and bounced off the rock and then plunged down the cliff on the opposite side. _

_Mariko and Tad were belted in securely, her beside him and Tad in his car seat in the rear. Of course Logan was not belted and was ejected from the car, fracturing his skull as it broke apart. A chunk of the car rolled over him in the tumble down the mountain side damaging internal organs, crushing his pelvis and shattering his legs. When he regained consciousness he could hear Tad crying and tried with all his strength, suffering from terrible pain, dizziness and disorientation for his injuries, to crawl toward the sound of his baby boy. He caught sight of the section of the car that Mariko was in. The roof of the car was crushed in and there was no doubt her neck was broken. _

"_Riko!" he cried out. "Oh God, no!" For a moment he buried his face in the dirt as emotional and physical pain overwhelmed him until his baby's cries gave him the strength to keep dragging himself forward. As he neared the wreckage, he smelled fuel and heard the crackle of flame. Realizing an explosion could happen at any moment, he pulled himself along faster. A mere body length from reaching the wreck, flames flared up and his baby boy screamed as heat from the flames took its toll. Logan struggled to just get to his knees and pull his baby from the car while flame heated metal seared his arms and chest. The stench of burnt flesh, his and Tads filled his nostrils, sickening him. Tad wailed a desperate, almost inhuman sound then became silent. _

_Bone claws cut the baby free from the car seat as he reached into the now fully engulfed wreck. With burnt-raw arms, he enveloped the still and silent body of his son, fell back on the ground and rolled away from the wreckage just seconds before it blew up Even though he had wrenched his son from the flaming car he was utterly powerless to save his only child's life. It took an agonizing five minutes for Tad to die in his sobbing father's arms._

If the nightmare wasn't horrible enough he realized his very involvement with the organization, in particular his refusal to transfer, had been the cause of the wreck and his family's death. Those brakes had been tampered with and even though he wasn't actually supposed to be in the car, they were confident enough he'd survive. If they'd overestimated his healing abilities, then so be it; membership in the organization was for life. If he was stupid enough to rebel or defect then punishment was dealt. That realization drove another spike into his tortured psyche.

Between that nightmare and others just as graphic and terrifying, Logan took to sleeping on the sun porch for fear he'd tear up the bedroom. He was so out of control one night he woke up after a hellish nightmare on the sun porch, curled up in a fetal position covered in blood with glass all around him. He'd gone berserk shattering the louvered glass panes in his sleep and didn't remember doing it.

After a many nights of this, he looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown; gaunt, hollow eyed, more unkempt than any one had ever seen him. The unpredictability of his moods was becoming a serious concern for the Team and students he was responsible for. It came to a head one afternoon when Logan, Scott and some of the older students were going through a simulation in the Danger Room. He was physically exhausted from virtually no sleep and mentally an emotional wreck from the sessions with Charles. He was really off his game and shouldn't have been in a simulation let alone volunteering to be the object of attacks.

Piotr, also known as Colossus morphed into his metal 'skin' and launched into Logan. The young man was nearly as tall as and far more muscular and when taking his mutant form, he was like a metal wrecking ball. He hit Logan square in the chest and gut.

Any other time Logan would have seen it coming and been ready to deflect, move out of the way or whatever it took to avoid such an assault. This time the blow flattened him, bruising internal organs and knocking him breathless and senseless. He regained his senses with a sudden gasp and then a fierce howl. In severe pain, as his body struggled to heal from the blow, he reverted to his feral incarnation. He snapped out his claws and launched into an all out offensive striking blindly in all directions with vicious slashes of his claws. It was a miracle that no one was injured. Scott zapped him with a controlled burst from his visor and the blast threw him across the Danger Room, knocking him out as the students fled.

Logan regained consciousness with a violent jolt and fierce howl. It only took a second to realize he was under restraint and he squirmed and jerked testing their viability. Feral rage overtook him as he realized he was firmly bound by adamantium_ and_ claw inhibitors had been attached to his forearms. He snarled and thrashed causing the bonds to cut into his flesh and the pain from it only drew him deeper into his animal self.

In his head he heard a voice. **Logan. You must cease this instant. **

Logan bared his teeth, snarled and glared with murder in his eyes in the direction of the 'voice'.

**You have it within yourself to stop. Do it; regain control or I _will_ stop you.**

Logan was too far gone and responded to Charles' threat with renewed fervor. He screamed, arched his body against the restraints and nearly flipped the gurney on which he lay.

Charles used his power to keep the gurney in place. **I'm sorry **he thought to Logan and sent a powerful telekinetic blast to his mind which instantaneously rendered him unconscious. Charles then proceeded to his side and placed his hands on either side of his head. **This is for your own good and the safety of everyone else** he thought to Logan and then subdued the raging beast that had reasserted itself within him.

Charles waited until he felt Logan's mind calm and then slowly helped him regain his senses.

Logan moaned as hazy reality returned. Now he had the mother of all headaches. Charles' mind-blasts could do that. Sarcastically he said, "Ok Charles I'm real impressed by your version of tough love; but save it for the kids. Ya got me right where you want me. What now?"

"You're relieved of all duties; teaching, coaching, the Team, until you get yourself together to my satisfaction."

Not really surprised but still reacting in anger, Logan unleashed an irrational verbal attack. "Get myself together? No! Lemme tell ya what I'm gonna do---I'm outta here….gone." Again he strained against the bonds and bellowed. "You were god-damned well supposed to be helping me! Instead I'm more fucked up than ever."

Charles rolled his chair back to give Logan space and he misunderstood the gesture. Thinking Charles meant further rejection he snarled like a wolverine, "Do you know what happens every night? Lemme tell ya bub…" Then he turned away as far as the restraints would allow and muttered "What's the use?" A bit louder he declared "Fuck you, fuck this whole place!"

Charles had miscalculated Logan's ability to handle so many intense memories in such a short period of time. Logan's limited ability to shield his inner mind from telepaths had given Charles the impression that he was strong and centered enough to handle things. Now that the genie was out of the bottle, so to speak, there were only a few options. Charles had the power to suppress what he had helped him recall but doing so was risky and imprecise. He also knew of a way, though just as risky, to help Logan gut things out and hopefully conquer his demons once and for all.

Charles sighed and rolled his chair back to Logan's side and this time spoke. "I'm truly sorry. I foolishly miscalculated your ability to handle the scope and pace of retrieving your memories." He began to explain the options for continuing to help but Logan was too irrational and distraught to comprehend.

At this particular moment Logan knew he needed to be rescued but just didn't want to express it. To admit such a need was weak. He was backed into a corner and he knew of only two things to do; fight or flee. How could a man fight himself or flee from himself? He couldn't see how to solve the problem in his mind.

He angrily demanded to be set loose. Charles knew keeping him a prisoner wasn't going to help and pleaded with him to stay on at the School at least for the night. But

Logan refused, stating that he needed to be alone on his own turf. Reluctantly, Charles let him go even though he was deeply disturbed by the thoughts and images swirling in Logan's mind.

Logan returned home, desperate, barely holding on by a thread. The urge to run was strong but run to where? No place on earth was going to stop the bad memories and Charles' offer to suppress them was even more terrifying. He sat in the darkened family room running 'solutions' to his problems through his troubled mind. He was in full self-hate, self-destruct mode He'd finished off several useless bottles of booze and was seriously debating going out and scoring an eight-ball of meth, knowing it was the only drug on the planet that did anything, when the phone rang. He let the voice mail answer, but immediately sprang for it when he heard Susan's voice.

Her phone call was not that upbeat. She'd gone for a glucose tolerance test and been diagnosed with gestational diabetes and while the problem was manageable, it just pointed up to her yet again of her 'advanced' age to be having children. She rambled about how she was going to have to test her blood and watch very carefully what she ate and hoped to keep things under enough control so that she would not need insulin. Then she complained about how extraordinarily busy things were and that she'd love to just be able to turn things off for a while. He agreed with her sentiments and was grateful for the momentary distraction she gave him from his problems.

When she asked him about his day, he was vague, telling her he'd had better but he'd get over it. She commented that he sounded 'strange' but he just told her he was tired and missed her. He didn't want to go into it any more; didn't want her to worry about his problems. He'd find a way to handle it.

Logan sat in the dark and re-ran the conversation with Susan in his mind. Something she said struck a chord. He needed some way to turn off his mind. His healing abilities extended to his mind. If it hadn't he'd have been a psychotic maniac a long time ago.

Problem was he only 'turned off' when he lapsed into a healing coma. His body would shut down, save for the most basic of functions while mind eased into a state of timelessness and nothingness. Usually when he emerged, not only was he was he physically healed, but his mind and spirit always seemed refreshed. The only way to induce that state was some kind of severe injury.

_Oh God,_ he thought, am_ I that fucked up?_ Could he purposely hurt himself and do it severely enough to induce the coma? _Get a grip ass-hole, you're loosin' it._ He drifted off to sleep on the couch but not long into his slumber, the nightmares began again.

_Terrified, pleading screams rang in his head. Faces of the dead swirled in his 'vision', their expressions locked in a mask of fear and pain; vivid and sickening. The smell of death, cloying and choking, seemed fresh and inescapable. _

_An image of a woman drifted into his nightmare. She was lovely, dark, tall and strong and she was pregnant. He chased her, cornered her. She wasn't going to go easily. He tried to explain to her that she had to come with him, pleaded with her not to resist, begged her not to force him to kill her._

_She would not be convinced. She fought him with all she had. Her mutant gift allowed her to poison an enemy with venom secreted from hidden stingers in her wrists. She charged him, slammed her wrists against both sides of his neck and injected her venom._

_He reacted defensively to her charge. As the venom she injected him with burned into his bloodstream, he ejected his bone claws and. . . . _

Logan startled awake, claws out, sweating, shaking and feeling like his blood was on fire.

"No, no, no" he yelled out to only himself. In vain he tried to calm himself, clear his mind; but he couldn't stop obsessing over what he'd done in the past.

_The Directors manipulated him to kill his own mutant kind to carry out their personal war against all mutants. His killing was not necessarily quick or painless; but neat, stealthy and efficient; he didn't leave traceable clues. The Directors tried to brainwash him to eliminate any feeling he might have for his grim duty. But he did have feelings, strong ones. He hated what he did and loathed himself because he was powerless against their control. They brainwashed him not to remember, but he remembered in his nightmares. _

It was like watching a horror movie in slow motion, over and over again and he couldn't turn it off. It was too much. These nightmares had to stop. If he didn't escape for a while, he was going to go insane-again A plan instantly formulated in his mind. He had to escape for a while and he knew how to do it. Suddenly calm, in a trance-like state, he went into the bathroom and stripped off everything save for his jeans then sat down in the oversized, empty garden tub.

Back at the School, Charles, greatly disturbed by Logan's earlier behavior, hooked himself up to Cerebro. He simply had to monitor him.

Slowly releasing them, Logan focused on his claws. Raising his hands up in front of his face, and then rotating his hands, he studied them from all angles. He purposefully, retracted all but one claw on each hand. Slowly, almost reverently, he crossed his left hand over himself and laid the blade against his neck. Applying firm pressure, he dragged the blade across his flesh. A spray of blood splattered on the tile surrounding the tub when his claw neatly sliced into his carotid artery. There was no pain. All he felt was warm wetness.

Having just connected to Logan, Charles screamed out telepathically. **Emergency! Assemble** **now. ** His message was picked up by every adult and some of the older students around campus. By the time Charles detached from Cerebro, all of the Team had assembled just outside the heavy metal door leading to the chamber. With no time to verbalize, Charles telepathically alerted the Team and issued orders as to what to do.

**Logan has been injured. **Charles was not going to divulge that Logan had just inflicted an injury on himself. **Kurt, teleport as quickly as possible and then teleport him back to the med lab.**

**Hank, set up for possible severe blood loss. How much of Logan's type do we have stockpiled? **

"Not a lot" Hank answered telepathically. "What's going on?"

The other Team members were firing off the same questions to Charles' mind. He deftly filtered the mental messages and communicated back to each member only what he wanted them to know.

To all but Hank, Charles was vague to the cause of Logan's injury. He knew that once Logan was in the safety and care of the med lab, everything would become obvious. That fallout was best handled later.

To Hank, Charles explained **I think he's cut a major artery. With him being weakened from the neuron-chip episode and his fragile state of mind at the moment…**

Hank nodded at Charles his understanding of the situation. Telepathically he asked the loaded question. "How did Logan get hurt?"

**Self-inflicted.**

Hank cursed aloud and then dashed off for the med lab to prepare for anything.

For Logan the escape, the coma, wasn't coming on as fast as he needed. He could feel the burning, pulling, itching as his body began to heal from the self-inflicted gash. He was healing too fast. He took his right hand, crossed it over and more forcefully sliced into the left side of his neck. Another spray of blood splashed the tiles as he cut through his jugular and carotid. It only took a moment for his vision to blur and then dim. He began to feel a strange heaviness and weariness settle almost into his bones. He could feel the blood pump from the gash keeping the same cadence as his heartbeat. He glanced down at himself, suddenly surprised at the amount of blood that was flowing down his chest and pooling around him in the tub. His last conscious thought was one of panic. What if he'd over done it? He didn't hear Kurt calling for him or Kurt's gasp of horror as he came around the bathroom door.

**Authors Note: I'm naughty. I just realized I've left y'all with two cliff-hangers in a row. Deal with it.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Authors Notes: Ok, I'm doing it again; taking a totally different approach from comic-verse and maybe even movie-verse for a segment. I admit that a Marvel character I utilize and how I portray him and the circumstance is a s-t-r-e-t-c-h. It does eventually serve a purpose; at least in my current long-range planning and sequel that I have in rough form. **

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

It took about ten hours before Logan woke up. He stirred to consciousness and found Charles keeping vigil. "Welcome back"

"No matter how it looked I wasn't trying to kill myself, Charles." Logan spoke, his voice weak and rasping

"I know that, Logan. You came very close, though." Charles rolled closer and looked Logan in the eyes.

Logan shut his eyes and shook his head, not willing to admit how close he cut it.

"What were you trying to accomplish?"He knew, but it was important for Logan to articulate it. He was going to have to force him into some sort of solution or this self-destructive pattern would continue.

"I don't even know anymore" Logan answered then sighed. After a long reflective pause he continued, "No I just had to shut everything off. I knew if I hurt myself just bad enough my physical healing would stop it; you know, the nightmares, the memories…." He opened his eyes again, looking all around the lab before turning on his pillow to finally look at Charles. "You told me to meditate. Well, it's a way to meditate, damn it!"

He stared angrily at the Professor for a couple of minutes.

Charles waited patiently with no trace of his thoughts showing on his passive face. The pause gave Logan the time he needed to think all the way through his emotions and reach the same answer Charles already knew.

"I don't…….I can't…handle… this…. anymore." Logan finally admitted in desperation, his voice cracking. "Charles, I need help. Is there anyway to keep recovering my memories without losing my mind?"

"Yes, there is. First, I must ask you a very important question. I don't necessarily want an immediate answer but a completely honest answer is crucial."

Logan sat up and looked at Charles in grave seriousness, trying to grasp what he was getting at.

"Logan, do you trust me completely?"

That was indeed a hard question. Did he really trust anyone completely? He thought he trusted Susan, but that was different. Could he really let his guard down that much to someone besides Susan? "Why?" he finally asked easing back down on the bed, woozy from the effects of loosing nearly half his blood volume.

"Because for me to help will require that I go even_ more_ deeply into your mind, your soul, if you will. If there are any barriers between us, I won't be able to help."

"Isn't that what we've been doing?"

"I have treaded lightly going only where you directed. I had hoped that you would be able to do most of this on your own." Charles looked strangely guilt-ridden. "I believe I short-changed you Logan."

"So how will this be different?"

"You have to trust me to take_ complete_ control of the process**." **

Logan didn't really understand and it showed in his expression.

"Logan, for me to help you in the way that I think you're asking, I must have _total_ access and _control_ over your mind. I think the issue of access isn't a problem, but do you, can you _trust me_ to control your mind while going through this?"

Now Logan understood; he must relinquish control of his mind. He was desperate enough to want to, but uncertain if he could. Finally he gave the most honest answer he could. "Yeah, I trust you. Can I let you take control? I don't know." He grimaced, hunched his shoulders and twisted his hands around the sheets. Finally, ever so slowly, he lifted his hands staring and turning them like he'd done in the bathtub yesterday; the memory of his stupidity rocking him to the core. "I know I've got to give it a try. I think you're my last chance, Charles."

"That's a fair answer. Now I want you to finish your IV, get a good meal and rest. If you think you'll be ready, we'll begin tomorrow and continue until it's finished. Once this process begins there can be no stopping. Is that clear, Logan?"

Logan nodded; understanding then settled back to sleep for a few more hours. He was weary and weaker than he first thought. Replenishing blood loss took a long time, even for him. What a fucking idiot! What _had_ he been thinking?

Before they began the following morning, Charles explained what was going to happen. Essentially he was going into Logan's mind and reorganize his memories into chronological order, sort of like defragmenting a computer. That was the easy part.

Charles would also have to sort out real versus implanted memories. That was the hard part. He hoped there would be some sort of pattern to the implanted memories giving him a difference that he could detect. If that was so, he should 'show' Logan how to compartmentalize the false memories.

Charles explained to Logan that he had become stuck in a 'loop' of traumatic memories remembered out of context. Logan remembered a real memory out of order and couldn't differentiate real versus implanted memory. His brain wasn't able to evaluate what a good bit of information or memory was because he didn't have a real understanding of the circumstances from which it came. The result was he couldn't put his memories in order. Whether that stemmed from past trauma or something else, both of them knew that he needed help with this.

For the process, Charles had to completely neutralize the emotional and reasoning parts of Logan's brain. Next he had to show Logan how to determine what was real memory and what was implanted memory. Finally he had to search, locate and help Logan access the part of himself that would allow him to non-destructively cope with the return of his memories.

That was the most uncertain part. Did Logan still possess the capability to safely cope or had those controls been destroyed in the brainwashing and manipulations that had happened to him previously? If that capability had been diminished or destroyed, would he want Charles to do a sort of reverse-brainwashing? It could be done but the risk of some loss of memories was a concern. Logan had made it clear that he would rather not have anything 'erased'. Reverse brain-washing would not be an option.

When the process was completed, Charles would have to re-start Logan's emotions and reasoning, leave as little residue of his own mind behind but still leave the 'memory' of what they had accomplished together.

Ultimately, Charles was simply helping Logan find something that was in him all along and 're-teach' him how to use it without fundamentally changing the person that he was.

Twelve hours later Charles finished and both were physically and mentally drained.

They stared at each other for a couple of minutes then both turned away without any words. Charles rolled out the door one step ahead of Logan and retired to his suite for a full twenty four hours reflection and recovery.

Had it worked? Logan didn't know; couldn't tell. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for a month straight. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid of what his dreams might be. Maybe it was his imagination or the residue of Charles' calming influence or simply he was too damned exhausted to care. He crashed in his old room on campus for about the same amount of time as Charles.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Not too late on a Wednesday evening, October twenty seventh to be precise, Logan picked up the phone and dialed that certain cell phone number.

Susan checked the caller-ID and smiled. "Hey, Bright Eyes."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Nothing. I've got my feet propped up, some tea and the TV remote" she replied. "You?

"Beer and TV."

"Aren't we just thrilling?"

"Yeah, just a bunch of old farts. You doin' ok?" His concern was genuine.

"I'm great, long day, though. Our babies are wearing me out already. I can feel them move. I can't wait 'til you can, Love." Her tone picked up a tinge of excitement. "Oh Logan, the Shock Trauma rotation is just awesome..." and she began to rattle off some of her experiences in technical, graphic detail.

"That's great, darlin'" he responded but could have done without the technical, graphic detail.

"Hey Bright Eyes, you know what?"

"What?"

"T-minus forty eight hours."

"Huh?"

"Logan, what's today? What's Friday?"

"Gotcha! Friday can't get here soon enough."

"I know. Hey, how are you doing?" She was alluding to the recent removal of the neuro-chips and drove him just a little crazy checking every time she called.

"I'm great, darlin', hundred and ten percent." he always answered, mostly truthful but he still hadn't told her anything about his breakdown the previous week and didn't plan to, either.

"What's with the twins? You can feel 'em" he asked, changing the subject?

"It's like butterflies in my belly.You know what? You just might be able to feel it, if you put your hand or ear to my tummy, with your jazzed up senses and all."

Logan laughed, intrigued at the possibility. "Get home, woman."

"Soon! Soon, Love."

"Not soon enough. When do ya think you'll get in?"

"I check out noon-ish and if traffic cooperates, I'll be home dinner time."

"Ok." He began to sound more upbeat. "I'll make sure to fix something nice. Any special request?"

"Just you."

"I can make that happen."

"Logan," her voice sound lonely, "I miss you."

"Me too. You're not gettin outta my sight anymore."

"Love ya, Bright Eyes. 'Night."

"Susie, take care of yourself and our babies. See ya."

They both clicked off their phones at the same time. Logan grabbed another beer, gritted his teeth and just sucked it up, the beer and his feelings. _God, I miss her_, he said to himself. He wanted to share some memories that had returned and he wanted; make that really needed her. The phone calls were a piss- poor substitute and he was sick of whacking off in the shower. Feeling stressed and uncomfortably emotional, he sat down with his guitar and began to play anything that came into his head; it was that or go out in the backyard and start slicing up the shrubbery. He played until he ran out of things he knew and then still feeling like he might explode, did go outside for some late night hedge trimming and to sort his thoughts.

For the first time he wanted no excitement or unpredictability. Get her home, settle in, go to work each day, come home, fix supper, watch the news, love each other, go to sleep and do it again the next day. Routine, it sounded so comforting, natural and he craved it. The cachet of being a high school gym coach didn't seem so--- un-Logan. Yeah, he was an X-Man; there would be missions putting him in harms way because he still felt that protecting innocents as a worthy cause. He fell into bed that night feeling somewhere between grateful for the life he had and frustrated beyond tolerance over the upcoming forty eight hours. He didn't suffer the ugly nightmares but he didn't rest well, either.

He bugged out of School as soon as he could Friday afternoon trading watch duty that night with Kurt. That meant he was going to handle two Friday watches in a row at some point but he'd worry about that later. His sole focus tonight was a reunion with his wife.

He had it all planned. For the meal; lobster. The atmosphere; set up the dining room with all the good stuff-- candles and flowers, of course. For the music; that was tough because their tastes were quite different. Romantic to her was Andrea Boccelli or Josh Groban or (hiss) Kenny G. Romantic to him, well he didn't really have romantic, at least not that would meet her definition. Part of the plan was wining and dining and maybe even a little slow dancing. He really did know how to do it right, despite a certain reputation he tried to maintain for the outside world.

He changed and put on some gray slacks and a claret-colored cashmere pullover, something she liked on him. He checked himself out in the mirror and shrugged. _It'll do,_ he thought. Table set, lobsters in the sink, CD's in the changer, fire in the fireplace; all he had to do now was wait. He just loved to wait; yeah, about as much as he loved staff meetings.

Hearing the garage door rumble open, he bolted through the family room, kitchen and laundry room. Nah, he wasn't too anxious! He stopped at the doorway between the garage and laundry room and drank in the sight of her. A month ago she was not really showing. Even two weeks ago, when she'd come back for his emergency, he hadn't really noticed (like he was in any condition to notice). Now she had a definite rounded belly. Smiling he took her softly into his arms." Look at you! I'm glad your home."

She melted into him. "What about me?"

He smoothed his hand over her belly.

She snickered. "Oh, happens, you know" and kissed him. "What about this?" She smoothed her hand over his face.

He'd let a full beard grow after the memory chips had been removed. When he'd regained his senses, he'd had a good five days growth and decided why not?

"You don't like it" he questioned?

"Actually, I think I do."

As he led her into the house, she launched into a litany about the trip back. "I'm telling you, I'd've been home an hour sooner if I didn't have to stop do dang often."

He cast a questioning glance in her direction.

"I swear it seems like every hour I had to stop and pee. Our children like to use my bladder as a trampoline."

His expression seemed to convey a droll that's-nice-to-know look. "How was traffic?" He really wanted to steer the conversation in a slightly different direction.

"Not too bad, until I got near the turnpike." She paused for a moment and took another good look at him. "You look thinner! Are you ok? I mean; over the mem…"

"Will ya quit with that!" He felt he was completely over the memory chip mess and really didn't want to hear it any more. Tonight was definitely not the night to go into his meltdown. He'd be perfectly content if she never found out about it. He handed her a glass of sparkling cider and tried to lead her to the couch by the fireplace.

"I need to move around, Bright Eyes. I've been driving for five hours." She strolled around and took note of everything he'd prepared. "Ooh, this is so sweet, I'm impressed."

"That's the plan, Mrs. Logan; kind of a continuation of our honeymoon" he said with a grin and poured himself a shot of the good stuff from the wet bar in the family room.

She looked at her gray wool slacks and road trip wrinkled blouse in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. "Well, if that's the case," she smiled knowingly, "why don't I slip into something a bit nicer than these?"

He thought she looked perfect, but knew better than to dissuade her. Susan went out to the car and brought in one of her bags. She'd done some shopping in Washington, D.C. because her expanding waistline made it necessary.

When she emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, dressed in a teal velour dress, Logan wasn't disappointed and he smiled appreciatively. If anybody had asked him if he found pregnant women remotely interesting, attractive or even sexy six months ago, he would have laughed. He learned it's different when the pregnant woman is your wife.

"What are you thinking, Bright Eyes?" She could guess what was running through his mind because his eyes were suddenly bright with love and desire. She sauntered over to him, placed her glass on the counter beside the stove and wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted her face toward him, closing her eyes anticipating his kiss.

His lips touched hers ever so gently at first, then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close; his next kiss deep, passionate and promising. Responding, she slid her arms lower around his taut backside pulling him even closer; then she interjected some reality. "Hate to say this" she murmured between kisses, "but lobster's kind of high maintenance."

"Guess it won't keep for a while, eh?"

She pulled back and put one hand on the side of his face. "It won't, but I will; for a little while" and then she trailed both hands down his chest and paused suggestively on his hips.

He sucked in his breath and then slowly exhaled. "Keep that up and it's gonna be take out." He pointed to the breakfast bar "Go-- sit over there."

The lobster turned out perfectly. Susan looked radiant in the candle light of the dining room and later they slow danced, tightly wrapped in each other for a little while until desire for each other became too strong to ignore.

The following morning over breakfast, Logan mentioned "We're both on for the Halloween Party tonight."

"Really? This could be fun. Is it costume?"

He had to think about it for a moment. He didn't pay much attention to parties. "Guess so."

"That doesn't give us much time to get costumes together" she commented

He crumpled the newspaper down and glared at her like she'd completely lost her marbles.

She smiled back sweetly, expecting just that sort of response. As she expect next came a declaration something to the effect of 'he didn't do costumes' and he didn't disappoint her.

He wasn't going to do a costume for any amount of negotiation, begging or threats and he'd rather Susan follow his lead, but that was like asking the tide to not come in. She got into the whole costume thing and by the late afternoon easily pulled together a biker-chick costume, completed by borrowing his way too big leather jacket, some jeans that she could still fit into and a camisole topped off with one of his flannel shirts. Actually, the jeans didn't fit too well; she could not get them buttoned or zippered any more. Therefore, the flannel shirt had to be un-tucked and buttoned from the bottom up, to just above her belly button.

Pregnant biker-chick? The image just didn't suit her. Elegant, classic, lovely, sexy, but in the most lady-like way; that was her image; she even looked classy in sweats or those scrubs she wore in the ER, at least in his opinion.

Standing duty wasn't usually that much of a big deal but since she'd just returned he didn't want to share her or his time with any one else. But he'd already traded off several shifts and been med-down enough that he was in the hole for favors. So chaperoning the Halloween Party was pretty much non-negotiable. At least they didn't have to be on until the evening. Night shift as long as she was along, wasn't too bad and with the party, it would go fast.

Normally on -duty at School meant Logan had watch and patrol for a twelve hour shift. Day watch just meant a few more extra tasks to fit in with the normal school day. Night watch meant he spent the night in his old room. Unless there was an eminent threat the job was a bore- necessary, but a bore.

Almost everyone sported a costume; Vic as Zorro and Electra as a flamenco dancer; Kurt's costume easily was the most ridiculous; a pink Angel costume that clashed garishly with his skin; Ororo dressed up like a witch and Scott wore a devil-costume. It was noticed that Logan wasn't costumed and Susan teased that he was coming as himself—wasn't that scary enough? 

The students did a fantastic job of converting the foyer and recreation rooms into a haunted house with swaths of fake cobwebs and black drapes hung every where. Games like apple bobbing and blind-mans bluff and Slime were set up. A haunted maze was constructed in the long corridor that went toward the music wing and Susan's office/clinic. Marie convinced Logan to help out with the maze for a while. He had such a great growl and she needed him to hide in there and scare the beans out of anybody who went through.

Sunday night was actually Halloween. The trick-or-treating started right at sundow.Susan made an early light supper and set Adirondack chairs on the front porch and the two of them gave out candy. She always enjoyed giving treats out ever since her son's got past that age because she adored the tiny kids on their first or second season. Her tradition was to decorate the porch with safe, non-flammable electric jack-o-lanterns, sit on the porch and just enjoy the children that came by.

Initially Logan was not interested but he wanted to be with her. He thought it might be funny to scare some of the kiddies but she warned him against it because he might piss off neighboring parents and might freak- out some child. Pissing off other adults didn't bother him but he wasn't obnoxious enough to purposely freak out a little kid.

They sat together on the porch chatting between groups of trick or treaters and talked about the future. "You know, it won't be too long before we're going to be doing this."

"What" he asked?

"Taking the twins out on Halloween."

He chuckled. "Yeah, guess that's true."

"Oh, look at them" Susan was referring to a couple coming up the drive with a set of twins dressed as Raggedy Ann and Andy. "Aren't they precious?" No more than three years old, they were the epitome of cute. Both Susan and Logan were charmed and spent several minutes conversing with the children's parents about the joys and tribulations of raising twins.

"Bright Eyes" she asked after the twins had gone on "do you have any memories of Halloween?"

"Not really, but there's a picture of me in a costume in that stuff from my mother."

"Get it, I wanna see."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's buried pretty far down; don't feel like digging for it."

"Do you mind if I?"

"Yes, I mind."

She giggled. "Why? Oh come on, please."

He snorted. "No."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Noooo" he replied sarcastically.

"You are! How bad can it be?"

"You're gonna make a pest of yourself, aren't you?"

She smiled sweetly. "Moi?"

He stood, muttered "shit" and went inside to get the picture. Then he brought it back and dropped the picture of him in a rabbit costume in her lap. "Happy now?"

"This is darling."

He knew she was going to say something like that but he still felt like gagging.

"How old?"

"I dunno. Is there a date on the back?"

"1955. You were five."

"Passed math, eh?"

She playfully slapped his arm. "Shut-up."

About that time, Matthew, who'd come for the day, returned from his evening escapades. He spotted the picture and figured out who it was immediately. He laughed and Logan glared at him. "Oh wow, no offense Logan. Trust me I wasn't laughing at you. It's just nice to know that someone else had to suffer through dorky costumes too."

"When did you ever wear a dorky costume, young man?" Susan cut in.

"Well, let's see, how 'bout that pumpkin costume when I was dying to be a Power Ranger. How about when you made Travis and I do matching cowboys?"

"You were too young to be a Power Ranger that year and the matching cowboys were for a special Halloween party your father and I hosted."

"Yeah, well I still felt stupid."

Logan teased, "Geez Susie, doesn't that qualify as child-cruelty?"

"Ok, ok! Matthew, I apologize if I've scarred you for life. You don't seem any worse for the wear, though."

"It's ok Mom. When I need expensive psychiatric therapy at forty I'll send you the bill."

"Inside smart-aleck. Haven't you got some studying to do?"

"Yes ma'am." He trudged off with a pillow case full of candy.

"Matthew Allen?"

"Yes."

"Candy goes in the kitchen."

"Dang" he muttered as he quickly changed direction from the stairs to the kitchen.

Very late that night, Logan awoke to the sound of ring chimes from the house alarm system being disabled. Then he heard the chime indicating a door or window had been opened. Susan didn't hear a thing, so he eased out of bed, slid into some sweat pants and crept to the front door. It was unlocked and the alarm system was set on stand by. He quickly and quietly opened the front door and spied Matthew scurrying down the driveway with an obviously overstuffed backpack hanging off his shoulders. It was clear the load wasn't heavy.

"Matt, what's happenin'?"

The boy muttered something best ignored. Looking angelic he addressed his step-dad "Ummm! Well, Logan, don't tell Mom. I'm joining a few buds for a little re-con mission."

"And what might that be?" Logan was calm.

He hesitated before answering. "This really neat chick I know, well, she got TP'ed a few weeks ago. And like, she asked me to like do a little strike-back.

Puzzled, Logan queried "What's T.P.?""

Matt opened his backpack to reveal about a dozen rolls of toilet paper.

"Oh yeah, wrapping." He understood. "Matt, it's way too late. You know Westchester has a midnight curfew."

"Yes sir. But come on, if I go out any earlier then 'rents are still up."

"Matt, if you get caught you'll be in way deep."

"Please Logan! Just let it go. I'll be back in an hour and I swear we won't get caught."

"Matt, who's the lady in distress?"

Matt was glad the driveway was dark because he turned about five shades of crimson.

"Umm, Hillary Reynolds." He mumbled not expecting Logan to hear; forgetting about his sensitive hearing.

Logan grinned, completely understanding. Little Miss Hillary Reynolds had captured the interest of most of the fifteen- plus years old boys in the neighborhood. Hell, if he'd been, what forty years younger, none of these other twits in the 'hood could have competed with him. Miss Hillary would have been his. Christ almighty, was it that long ago that he'd been a kid?

"Ok, Matt. Get going, get it done and I better hear those door chimes in an hour. If not I'm coming after you, that is_ if_ you don't get busted first."

"Thanks; you're the coolest." Matt darted down the drive and into the darkness.

And I'll let you fry if you do get caught, Logan said, but knew he wasn't heard.

Going back into the house he had to chuckle. He remembered a certain young lady that he'd had a thing for at just about Matt's age. He'd gotten expelled from school over it.

She'd been the headmaster's daughter and one of those types that just had to sample each and every player on the hockey team. He'd been so brash (make that stupid) and thought just because he was a Howlett, he could get away with anything. When he bragged about his chance at the lovely... (What was her name? Carolyn, Christine? It doesn't matter!) He'd mouthed off to the wrong person and promptly found himself kicked out of yet another school. It hadn't even been worth it because when it came time for her to put out, she was just a tease. All he got out of it was a lot of physical frustration, expelled and a serious belt lashing from his old man. Geez, these memories kept coming back. He realized he'd always been kind of a rebel, trouble-maker type and it was good to know that the micro-chips and everything else hadn't really changed his personality.

Thinking about that made him yearn for Susan but it was late and she needed her rest but he crawled back into bed and spooned against her anyway.

"Hmmm. What are you doing Bright Eyes?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Whatever I can get away with" he whispered as he smoothed his hands over her body.

"I'm so sleepy." she said as she turned her body toward him and swung a leg over his.

He grinned. She wasn't that sleepy. He kissed her forehead, and then trailed kisses down her cheek, jaw line, neck, and shoulders.

She sighed deeply and took his face in her hands and drew his mouth to hers….

Matthew did make it back in a reasonable time. Susan was sound asleep again and Logan, resting lightly, heard the chimes as the door opened and then beeps as Matt activated the system. He'd mention the whole thing to Susan sometime in the future. For now, he just wanted to settle in and catch some quality z's.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Monday morning came far too soon. Logan could have used a couple more days just to do nothing but spend time with her and while Susan could relate to the sentiment; she would have preferred to use the time to sleep. Alas, there was a ton of catch-up for Susan to do because she'd been away nearly a month. Not so much the hospital, but the clinic at School because it was time for annual physicals, flu shots and a host of routine things that took time and manpower.

She was toweling off after her shower and for no particular reason she noticed some staining in the grout around the bath-tub tiles. "Hon, has the cleaning lady been here recently?"

Logan paused the electronic toothbrush. "Last week. Why?"

Hmmmm, she mumbled to herself. "Looks like she didn't do a very good job." She pointed to the stain. "Did you notice this?"

_Oh shit! Thought I got that cleaned up._ "No" he fibbed.

"Wonder what it is? Doesn't look like mold- you've got that sensitive nose, does it smell like it?"

He shook his head then turned and went back to brushing his teeth not wanting her to catch on to his deception. He wasn't ready to talk about his breakdown.

"Oh well, I'll leave Lupe a note to pay extra attention to the bath, I guess."

Susan didn't usually obsess about things like that. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones but something wasn't right and she couldn't stop thinking about it. Tuesday, her first full day back at School, she perused medical files to see who needed to be scheduled for a physical and came across the recent update in Logan's chart. Too loudly she muttered, "What the heck is this?"

Electra heard and came to look over her shoulder. "Que pasa?"

"Look at this entry. Logan never said anything about this." Susan turned to her assistant and looked her straight in the eye. "I know about privacy and all that; but tell me he didn't really do what this report seems to indicate."

"Susan, I don't know for certain. Hank and Charles were involved."

"Forget it girl friend, I'm not going to put you on the spot. This boils down to a communication issue between Logan and me." She hit the print icon on her computer and then gathered up the sheets of paper and exited her office by the French doors and took the shortcut across the patio and lawn to Logan's office.

He noticed her pained look and immediately smelled strong emotion coming off her. She tossed the papers in front of him and sat down heavily on the couch. "What's wro----"

She cut him off before he could finish. "We need to talk."

He glanced down at the papers and heaved a deep sigh. "Yeah, I guess we do" he replied quietly. He turned in his chair and faced her. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh really?" her tone was edgy. "Why don't you explain, then?"

Logan tried his best to convey to her just what happened and why and she seemed to understand and even take it in stride. The hardest part came when she asked: "This is the second big issue in just a few weeks that you've left me out of the loop. Why?"

"Second?"

"Yes, or did you forget about the memory-chip problem? If you hadn't had that seizure on me, would you have told me or would I have discovered it just like this?"

He didn't have the answer that she needed to hear. "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you."

"Aaarrgghh!" she groaned in frustration. She got up from the couch and started pacing the floor. Suddenly she stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes locked with his, worry and anger mixed in their depths. "Look here, I'm not some little shrinking violet that needs sheltering. You've got to trust---"

"I do trust you."

"Let me finish, please. You've got to trust I can support you with your problems before they get so out of control."

"I do."

"I'm not seeing that."

"What do ya want me to do?"

"Communicate. I can't help if I don't know what you need."

"You couldn't help."

"That's just crap and you know it."

"Maybe. But its water under the bridge now, ain't it?" He glanced at the time. "Babe, I got a class. We're gonna hafta finish this later." He gave her a peck on the lips. "Sorry."

She nodded and just as he was about to exit she asked "Is it really so hard to ask for help?"

He shook his head and started for the playing fields. _Yeah darlin', harder than you'll ever know_, he thought.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

The house next door had been for sale for about four or five months. One afternoon Susan was home early and noticed a moving van being unloaded at the house._ Terrific_, _new neighbors finally!_ she thought.

Susan was fixing lasagna for supper, so whipping a double batch was a no-brainer. Whoever her new neighbors were would most likely appreciate the gesture. Feeling a little bit nosy, she ambled on over and spotted a woman who seemed to be pretty close to her own age. "Hi, I'm your neighbor, Susan Logan." she said cheerily, using her married name, as opposed to her professional name of Harris.

The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Linda Creed."

A burly mover interrupted the women for instructions on placing some furniture.

The women exchanged pleasantries. They discovered they were both newlyweds and both expecting approximately the same time. Linda was expecting one child, a girl.

Susan learned that Linda's husband was currently away on business, but was due back that evening. Linda expressed extreme gratefulness at Susan's offer to share lasagna

As it turned out, neither Linda's husband nor Logan made it home for dinner, so they enjoyed lasagna and salad together in Susan's kitchen. When they were through eating the men still hadn't returned, so they went over and unpacked a few things at Linda's.

In the course of their chatter, she learned that Linda was a chiropractor and up until recently practiced for the New York State Division of Corrections, the prison system. When Susan gently inquired what her husband did for a living, she said he was something of a freelance consultant.

When Logan got home Susan was a chatter box about the new neighbor. Her focus was on another woman having a baby in her forties, just like herself and that Linda seemed like she might have the makings of a friend. At least it would be very pleasant to have someone next door in the same 'new baby boat'.

"What's Linda's husband's name?" Logan asked off handedly.

Susan paused and then admitted she didn't remember. "But, don't worry; I invited them to our next neighborhood happy hour. It's our turn in two weeks."

He felt a twinge of concern when Susan mentioned Linda's last name. He shrugged it off. Just because his arch enemy was named Victor Creed didn't really mean squat.

They settled in for the night. With an LL Bean catalog in hand, she snuggled under the covers and asked "What do you want for Christmas, Bright Eyes? She'd figured out what she was getting him, most of it purchased and hidden already.

Logan was speechless for a moment, celebrating any holiday was new to him.

"Never really thought about it" he finally answered.

"Well, think about it." Susan said firmly and rubbed her ice-cold toes on his leg.

"Yoww! Get those toes back on your side" he demanded.

"Oh, sorry" and she shifted. "Christmas is a huge deal for me." She was sending him a very big clue and if he didn't catch on, she'd drag out the figurative baseball bat and smack him upside the head.

"What do you mean by a huge deal?" he asked.

"Oh darling, parties and decorations; it's going to be so nice to have a resident male around to put up the lights. There's baking tons and tons of cookies, it's a full weekend when I do _all_ my recipes. Do you like fudge? Oh never mind, it's M&M's all the way. Then there's Midnight Mass."

Logan raised an eyebrow and thought, _Resident male? Midnight Mass? _"Yeah, fudge works for me."

"So glad, I've got a killer recipe. Oh, St. Ignatius does the most wonderful Mass. The music is just unbelievable. Haven't you noticed my Thursday night practices have been getting longer?" She caught the perplexed look on his face and decided to drop it for a bit and looked through the catalog.

Logan chewed on his cheek grabbed the TV remote and switched on the news. _Was she asking him to attend Christmas Eve mass? Yeah, she was. Putting up the lights was do-able. Mass, well no answer was his best bet at the moment_. He had no problem with her religious affiliations; he just didn't want to go there.

Instead of focusing on TV he became lost in thought. He knew from looking over the stuff in the trunk, he'd been raised Roman Catholic but he didn't remember much. Even the photo of him at his first Holy Communion didn't ring any bells. He just thought the picture was embarrassing as hell. He had a crew cut, (those damned cowlicks on either side of his head were evident even then) and a 'cute little suit and (gag) bow- tie' He was smiling this stupid little smile with his hands clasp together, like he was praying. The picture was so 1950-something stereotypical. _Just call me freakin' Ricky Nelson_ he muttered.

"Did you say something?" she mumbled back.

"Nah" he replied and continued with his private internal monolog. _Was I ever **that** young? Did parents really make their kids dress like that? No way's** my** boy ever going to be subjected to that b.s._ He sighed.

She glanced over her catalog at him. "What's a matter?"

"Nothing." He felt like she might be reading his mind, but she didn't have that gift. "So, what's with all the parties you're talkin' about?"

"Well there's the formal the hospital puts on every year. The neighborhood puts on a great get-together; it's the Happy-Hour crew and pretty much everybody who lives within about two blocks. Some of the drug-reps'll be inviting us for cocktails." She looked at him expectantly, "I suppose School puts on some thing?"

"Hell if I know" he replied.

"Weren't you there last year?"

He had to think for a minute. "Nah, I split for a few weeks; kinda soon after---" he fumbled with words, "---after Jean----"

"Oh, say no more" Susan cut him off gently and continued with plans, more as a distraction. "I have season tickets to Radio City Music Hall; the Rockettes, you know?"

He smiled at that idea.

"Don't forget the ski trip we've planned between Christmas and New Years. Gosh I hope I can handle this holiday season, I mean this pregnancy hasn't been the easiest."

"Ya think?" Logan said. The whole deal sounded way over the top for his tastes. Social situations still made him uncomfortable. Formal and semi-formal social situations were to be avoided like a case of the plague, as far as he was concerned. The Rockettes? Now that just might be a good deal. Skiing, better yet, snowboarding, sounded just up his alley. "Sue, I'm not going to have to like dress up for any of this shit, am I?"

"Of course; black tie all the way!" She was joking but he didn't catch that nuance.

"I don't do tuxes" he declared.

"Don't freak, Bright Eyes. You'll do fine." She knew she'd never get him into a tux, but she could probably finagle a tie once or twice. The hospital's Christmas party was semi-formal. If Logan was going to be her escort, AND HE WAS; and if she had anything to do with it, he _would_ wear a suit and tie.

With a suggestive glance she said, "I promise to make it worth your while if you just give in a little bit."

He took the bait. "Starting when?"

She kissed him hard, sending the message that he was in for the down payment tonight and after he accepted his 'down payment', he asked her in all seriousness if he really was going to cut it with her business associates.

She rose up, elbows on his chest and gently scolded, "James Logan, you sell yourself too short. Do you remember when I promised I'd never put you in a situation that you couldn't handle? Honey that promise still holds."

Logan was incredibly tough on himself despite his cavalier facade. He wasn't a social bull-shitter but could hold a decent conversation if the topic interested him and he was learning to keep his temper in check. It helped a lot that Susan managed to steer him around situations that might trigger his more 'uncivilized' side. Circumstances, his mutation, and brutal life experiences had given him a hard edge. Instinct was still his primary method of dealing with anything and some of his instincts were still less than civilized. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Love you, darlin'. G'night."

As he drifted off to sleep, the perfect Christmas gift for her came to mind. They had been discussing where the nursery was going to go. It had been decided (mostly by Susan) for the first few weeks the babies would stay in the master bedroom so that she could nurse more conveniently at night. Logan got it in his mind to build a cradle for two. School had a wood shop that didn't get much use and he could easily utilize it and nobody would ever know. All he had to do was carve out the spare time which was something he didn't have a lot of lately. What the hell, sleep's over rated!

Early the next morning, before light, Logan trudged sleepily down the driveway to retrieve the newspaper. A significant frost covered every surface and he regretted not having any more on that some plaid flannel pants. Cold wouldn't hurt him, but he still felt it. At the same moment, his new next door neighbor, Linda's husband, lumbered down his driveway for the newspaper. Both men sensed each other at precisely the same moment.

Both men froze in their tracks and Logan snapped out his claws. "Creed!" he growled

"Runt!" Victor Creed, a.k.a., Sabertooth, snarled using an old nickname of Logan's.

Assuming and offensive posture, Logan snarled, "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead."

Victor Creed laughed aloud. "Yer such an idiot. Ya can't kill me just like I can't kill ya. What am I doin' here? I live here, Runt. What you doin' here?" He wasn't the least but phased by Logan's aggressive posturing. In most instances he could easily kick his ass and had done so frequently. Liberty Island had been a lucky shot, a fluke for the 'Great Wolverine'. The two men had a long history together. Both had healing powers, had a feral side, Sabertooth more so than Logan. Both were survivors of Weapon X and had been team mates, rivals and competitors at various points in their association with one another; much of which Logan didn't remember.

"Kind of on the wrong side of the tracks, ain't ya Runt?"

Logan sneered "Look who's talking."

"Know what Runt, ya owe me- big time for Liberty Island. Put me out of commission for a long time. But I've got a rule; I don't bring my business home. Ya want to do a 'consultation', we take it elsewhere." With that declaration, Victor Creed turned his back on his enemy and swaggered into his house.

Logan stood in his driveway too stunned and seething for the moment. He finally pulled together some sense of control, retracted his claws and stalked back into his house, forgetting the newspaper. Susan was fixing tea when he stormed into the house. The look on his face was blind rage. Immediately he ranted "We're selling this house. We're moving out today."

"What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

"Do you know who the next door neighbor is?"

"Well, I've met Linda." She was puzzled and couldn't imagine why he was so bent out of shape.

Still furious, he snapped out his claws. "I'll tell ya who our next door neighbor is. He's fucking Sabertooth!"

Susan winced, offended by his language and actions. It was her turn to be frightened and angry but she tried to sound calm. "Logan, please put the claws back. Who is Sabertooth?" She truly didn't know.

He glared at her. What? Was she stupid? He didn't verbalize it. No, she didn't know. Drawing from some hard to access, deep-down control, he retracted his claws. He couldn't keep the venom from his voice. "Sabertooth is one of my worst enemies; ranks right up there with Magneto." Ranting loudly, he recounted how Creed had ambushed him and Marie outside of Laughlin City and the savage battle they'd fought on Liberty Island.

Susan was stunned and speechless. If this guy was as evil as Logan painted him, how could he have such a seemingly friendly, decent wife? There wasn't going to be much she could say at the moment to make him feel any better, calmer or safer. Instead she questioned about what transpired between them a few minutes before. That tactic wasn't very successful.

Sounding like a major rage coming on he yelled. "We gotta sell this place quick. I ain't comin' back here with that animal livin' next door."

"For heavens sake, Logan, think about what you're saying. It takes time to sell a house."

"I don't give a shit. If he's nearby, I'm gone."

"Will you please calm down? We can talk about more this evening."

"Nothin' to talk about. I just told ya how it is."

Suffering from her normal morning queasiness, she really wasn't in the mood for his tirade. "This is _my_ home. I'll be glad to hear you out when you're calm….and let me make something clear; you walk away, you _stay_ away!" As soon as she said the words, though, she regretted them.

He was still seething and now deeply stung by her seeming indifference. "Fuck this shit!" He stormed into their bedroom, dressed in a hurry and left the house without a glance back.

Susan heard his truck squeal out of the driveway and roar down the street. She fought the urge to weep over their first real married fight. She lost. She determined to make it up tonight. Somewhere down the line, there would be a solution or compromise to their new neighbor. All she had to do was keep him from going ballistic in the interim.

That evening's conversation ended up not happening. The Team got called out on a mission and it would be three days before they could return. By then something more pressing distracted Logan from the issue.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Charles radioed the returning Team with a message specifically for Logan. Susan was in the hospital suffering from high blood pressure and threatening to go into pre-term labor. The entire team was immediately worried. Logan's face grew dark with fear masked by a menacing scowl. The thirty minutes it took to land the jet seemed like thirty hours and all sorts of frightening scenarios played out in his mind. He knew it was way too soon for the twins to be born. He didn't know enough about high blood pressure but it didn't sound good. _Didn't people stroke or something from it?_ _What if it was worse than Charles was letting on?_

The Team tried to reassure him though their efforts weren't particularly successful, in part because they were just as ignorant as he was. The other part was that Logan wasn't about to be reassured by anybody. He had to see for himself. He skipped the debrief and almost didn't take time change back into his civilian clothes before realizing his uniform might not be such a good idea. Luckily there were no cops around because he broke more than a few speed limits on the way to the hospital.

The smells and sounds of the hospital didn't do anything to calm him. Struggling to control rising anxiety, he was probably harsher with the nurse at the desk than he should have been. "Where's my wife?" he barked at the poor girl

"I need a name, sir."

Impatiently he growled, "Susan Logan, uh, Dr. Harris. What room?"

In no hurry she typed a name into a computer." That would be four-ten. But sir, you can't see her now. Visiting hours are over." That was the wrong thing for her to say.

He turned on his heel and dashed down the hallway with the nurse right behind him still advising him he couldn't see Susan. He turned, glared and snarled, "I don't give a damn whether it's visiting hours or not. I just got back from bustin' my ass on a……" he almost said mission. "…business trip. Now back off."

The nurse was definitely intimidated and shrunk back. If she'd had a tail, she would have probably tucked it beneath her as she scurried back to her desk. Of course, she contacted security immediately.

At least he had the sense to knock on the door to Susan's room. "Come" he heard her voice. He poked his head into her room and there she was hooked up to an IV and fetal monitor, looking thoroughly bored. She smiled when she saw him. "Hey Bright Eyes! Charles told me you were on your way."

He went to her, taking her hand gently in his. "What the hell! What's going on?"

"My blood pressure shot up and I started contracting yesterday."

He lost the hostile scowl and just looked plain scared." Is it gonna to be ok?"

She squeezed his hand. "Yes. I'm ok now and the twins are fine."

He searched her eyes for any sign of putting up a brave front and couldn't detect the scent of deception. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Don't scare me like that Susan."

"I promise I'll try not to."

"How long do you have to stay?"

"Hope I can go home tomorrow. Lance wants to make certain the contractions have really stopped. Check out the monitor." She showed him where to look and explained what the paper feed indicated. This shows the babies' heart rate and this one indicates contractions." It looked something like a piece of equipment that measured seismic activity in an earthquake zone to him. "See all the wavy lines? That's a contraction on paper."

"Ok, yeah; now the paper shows a fairly straight line." He got it.

"A few more hours of straight lines and I can go. Plus I'm dosed up with drugs to keep my blood pressure down and under a whole bunch of restrictions including an early retirement from the ER."

"You really can't go back to work?"

"Not so much. Honestly, I'm crossed between disappointed and happy. I mean, I was planning on giving up the ER at the end of the year, but I'm not thrilled about having the timetable changed and I'm sure not looking forward to having an enforced rest. I've got too much to do."

"Well, I'll just have to do it for you" he said gallantly.

She sighed. "If only you could. It's not easy to walk away from all my responsibilities here. I did have a transition plan but its shot now."

"They'll get along without you."

"I'm not sure how I'm going to get along without them." She loved her career and this curve in the plan affected her more than she wanted to admit. Actually just contemplating the possibility that she wasn't 'super woman' was a place she wasn't ready to embrace. She had ignored the reality that she was a Normal and deluded herself into what she could handle by Logan's example. They were approaching the age that grandchildren should be the thing, not beginning a family. He didn't look it or act it and she looked younger than her age and really started to believe she could turn the clock back when reality slapped her in the face. She began to cry.

Tears completely unnerved him. "Baby, what's wrong? Hey, hey, don't cry." He pulled her close.

She unloaded about their age difference and how his mutation wasn't going to cause him to age like she would. She shared her fear that they might have only ten somewhat equal years together. "I don't know. It just that when I'm sixty, I'm going to look it and act it and your going to look—oh who knows how you'll age. God only knows how it'll be," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Sshh. Stop, please." He held her and smoothed her hair. "Listen to me. Don't you think I took this into consideration when I asked you to marry me? I know what the differences are and I don't care. I love you now and I'm going to love you ten or twenty or fifty years down the road. We made promises to each other. When I make a promise, it's for keeps; period."

She felt a little better. "Qie hier; Que demain" she replied remembering the pendant he'd given her.

"Absolutement" he replied in French and then nuzzled her sweet smelling hair. "I love you babe" _And you have_ _no idea how much I need you,_ he thought.

As weeks went by Logan did his level best to take over more things around the house and still balance his responsibilities. His housekeeping skills were not quite the same calibur as hers and in a normal situation that would be a non-issue. If he didn't do some task quite to par, the cleaning service came in weekly, so no harm done.

He wasn't a huge fan of the weekly cleaning crew. It made him nervous having strangers coming into the house and having access to everything. It crossed his mind that an enemy could switch places with someone on the cleaning crew allowing the house to be bugged or even booby trapped. Susan was respectful of his concerns, but thought his paranoia was just a little over the top.

Some other points of contention between them were laundry, grocery shopping and cooking. When it came to laundry, their methods were completely opposite. He was the toss it all in, get it done as quickly as possible type and she was the sort it carefully, follow the label directions, if not do it all on delicate type. And then there was that annoying thing she did to his shirts; professional cleaners and starch! He swore he'd never, ever buy another cotton button down shirt again, unless it was flannel. He dared her to starch his beloved, comfortable, beat up flannels.

He had no clue and no matter how clearly she detailed the weekly grocery list, he either would not or could not get it. Well, to be fair, he could deal with short trips for a few things but Sam's Club was another story all together. Susan went monthly, usually to coincide with her sons' visits and she tried to work him into it the first few times they went together. Of course on a Saturday the place was crowded; that was strike one. Second, shopping of any kind equaled one the most boring things he could think of; right up there with staff meetings or watching paint dry!

He suffered along as gracefully as he could, pushing the cart as she meticulously shopped for the items on her list. She chatted incessantly as she went along, trying to instruct him as to the what's and why's of her selections. He pushed the cart slowly behind her, rolling his eyes, making faces and silently mimicking her; generally acting like an obnoxious so-and-so. She caught him in one of his silent mimics once and gave him the same evil look she reserved for Matthew when he stepped out of line. He glared back at her but would not admit, on pain of death, that her withering look made him feel like a bratty fifteen year old.

Another time they went to Sam's, she sent him off in one direction while she went in another hoping to take less time at the task. That was a mess. He either couldn't find what she sent him after and came back empty handed or got distracted and completely ignored her instructions returning with whatever struck his fancy. She tried to decide whether he was really that clueless or playing some sort of passive-aggressive mind game. Since passive-aggressive wasn't his style, she chose to believe he was clueless. That didn't mean she was ok with it but she bit her tongue and gave up for the short term. If it really came down to dire need, she trusted he'd be able to rise to the challenge.

Logan was a mess in the kitchen! He had a few specialties and they were tasty but the mess he made in preparation and his definition of cleaned up did not mesh with hers at all. He was fixing Saturday night's supper, a batch of chili and had preparations all over the kitchen and the pot was threatening to bubble over on the stove top.

She was lying on the couch, watching TV, which was fairly unusual. One of the meds she was taking disturbed her sleep and a bad night for her usually made for a lot of morning – make that all day- sickness. So between feeling jumpy and grouchy and now nauseated and throwing up most of the day, it did not take too much for her to have a melt down.

Hearing the sound of his chili spilling over and sizzling on the stove top she jumped up to turn the burner down and got a good view of the mess. "For heaven's sake, Logan! Look at this mess."

"What? I'll clean it up."

Susan sounded utterly exasperated. "You never do it right." She was just about to chew him out some more when the odor from the burned chili assaulted her senses. She clamped her hand over her mouth, made quick for the kitchen sink and lost her lunch.

He felt bad for her, he really did, but at the moment, her misery struck him as just a bit comical. "Do ya hafta do that in the kitchen sink? I'm trying to cook here" he said trying to clean up the spilled, burnt chili. His voice had just an edge of mirth and she picked up on it.

Composing herself, she swore at him and threw a sopping wet dishrag that smacked him on the side of his head. "You son of a bitch! Do you think I like feeling like this? It's all your fault!" Her voice was sharp. "I'm sick all the time; I'm as big as a double wide house trailer; I can't sleep and you're telling me where I can get sick! I'll throw up wherever I want. Is that clear?" She burst into tears, ran from the kitchen to the bedroom and slammed the door.

_Ok, _he thought_, deserved that one_. He tossed the dishrag back into the sink and went after her. He tapped on the bedroom door, not daring to open it. God knows what else she might throw at him. "Darlin', I'm sorry. I was just foolin' around." He could hear her sniffles, but she didn't answer. "Can I come in" he asked sheepishly?

"No."

Standing outside the door, he shook his head and heaved a deep sigh, trying to decide what to do next. Forget it, he was going in. He opened the door just a crack at first and then stuck his head in. Nothing came through the air so he boldly walked in, still poised to duck. She sat on the bed a Kleenex in hand and he went over and sat down beside her and rubbed her shoulders. "Hey, come on, Sue, its ok. I'm sorry. I know you don't like feelin' bad."

She leaned into him. "I'm sorry too. I'm such a grouch lately." She sniffled. "I just feel so fat and ugly and useless."

Her admission surprised him. He wasn't quite sure what to say considering how _well _he'd done just a few minutes ago so he decided maybe it was best to just keep his mouth shut. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug.

"Sshh. You're beautiful and I love you." He thought he got it wrong again when more tears welled in her eyes.

"I love you too." Noticing his wet hair from where the dishrag had hit him her sense of humor returned. She stifled a giggle, "The rag was clean, in case you're wondering."

"Huh? Oh yeah. It was?" He scrunched up his face contemplating the other possibility. "For that I'm truly grateful."

Her mood shifted yet again. "Thought you might be Bright eyes. Come on; let's finish up the chili and the kitchen." She mopped her face with another tissue and led him back to the kitchen.

…_and I get accused of being moody and unpredictable,_ he thought. He couldn't wait for these pregnant moods of hers to be a thing of the past. He motioned her to resume her perch on the couch, but she didn't want to. They almost got into another argument when he finally said, "Alright, you sit here.." he pointed to the chair at the breakfast bar. "and supervise."

"But I need to do something. I'm bored out of my tree" she protested.

"You_ are_ doing something. You're sitting there looking gorgeous."

She rolled her eyes. "You're _so_ full of it."

He grinned and then busied himself with the chili again.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Over the next few weeks, some interesting and frightening information filtered in about an illness that seemed to only affect mutants; a virus that manifesting itself like a bad cold but with a twist: it seemed to render mutant powers temporarily useless. This type of thing could be a welcome respite for some, a minor annoyance for others and downright dangerous for a few. Hank had first mentioned it during a staff meeting when he had gotten an e-mail from another pro-mutant physician and Charles had gotten some communications from several colleagues, including his dear friend, Moira McTaggart. As the days and weeks progressed, more and more information circulated about the illness.

The first case of it showed up at the school about a week before Thanksgiving. Within days, many had been stricken, including most of the Team and that gave rise to serious security concerns. Charles telepathic powers were useless and thus his ability to scan for threats with Cerebro.

Scott found the virus to be a small blessing. For the first time since he'd manifested his gift at a young teenager, he could go without his visor. Of course, he didn't dare for very long because it wasn't known when his powers would return.

Marie was actually thrilled to contract the virus and enjoyed six very special days where she could actually touch others and not cause harm. She was mildly, but understandably depressed when she recovered.

With the implementation of the Mutant Registration Act and new laws being instituted, agencies like the Centers for Disease Control or National Institutes of Health could not help officially. Hank, Susan and Charles had a few connections but those had to be tapped cautiously. The greatest source of information came from old fashioned detective work and lucky breaks. The entire medical team put long hours in surfing the internet, going into the 'field' and actually taking blood and other samples when ever an opportunity presented. Luckily so far, the disease seemed more of an annoyance than anything else.

Thanksgiving turned out to be a welcome respite and Logan and Susan celebrated at School because they wanted to, her sons were with their father and because the virus still had students and a significant number of faculty under the weather. Storm and Kurt were in the last stages of the virus. They felt well, but were unable, as of Thanksgiving Day to use their powers. Electra was feeling miserable enough to stay bundled up in her home. Susan and Logan brought plates of food to her and Vic. Logan was still dodging the thing as far as anyone could tell.

The day after Thanksgiving was the traditional 'deck the halls' day for Susan. Early Friday morning she bribed Logan with coffee she brought to his bedside. "Wake up, Bright eyes. Time to do it."

"Do what?" he mumbled pulling the pillow over his head.

"Decorate for Christmas, of course."

"Right! What time is it?"

"Eight fifteen." She sounded positively chirpy.

He groaned. "Fine, I'll be up in a few." He fully intended to ignore her and drift back to sleep.

She knew what he was up to and pulled the covers off of him. "Get a move on" She gently swatted his bare backside.

Logan jumped with surprise narrowly avoiding knocking the coffee mug over. "Do you have no mercy for the weary?"

"Not today. You've had more than eight hours to sleep and you_ don't_ have a nightly gymnastics meet going on in your belly."

Logan sat up, yawned and took a sip from the steaming mug. "True enough, darlin." A sly grin spread across his face, he set the coffee mug down and grabbed her by the wrist.

"It's gonna take more than coffee to bribe me, woman!" He pulled her close.

She shrieked and laughed. "Oh the things I have to go through to get something done around here" she said with mock indignation and planted a wet kiss on his mouth. .

"That's a good start" he said as his interest steadily rose.

She let out a playful little growl and pushed him back onto the bed.

After half an hour well-spent, Susan purred in his ear. "Feeling properly bribed now?"

"Absolutely! But, I might just have to rest a little longer; you know, to recover."

"Nah ah, play time's over. Get your buns moving" she ordered as she slipped off him and headed for the shower.

"Do I hafta?" he said doing his best naughty little boy imitation

"Go-- make breakfast---please." She stepped into the warm water and completely ignored his last question

He got out of bed with a groan and a cat-like stretch, fully aware that playtime was indeed over, at least for a while.

While scarfing down breakfast he asked, "Ok darlin, what's the plan?"

"First off, I need you to go over to storage and get the trees. Then come back and help me get them put up."

Get the tree's out of storage? You mean we don't do _real_ trees? How lame is that?"

"Real trees shed and make a huge mess. I haven't had a real tree in years." He was clearly disappointed but she decided not to engage the issue further. "Next comes the lights on the house. I need you to string them on all of the roof peaks." She took out pencil and paper and sketched exactly where the strings of lights were supposed to go.

He rolled his eyes. "Could we get just _one _real tree?" He got a wistful look on his face. "I mean, we always had the biggest trees. There was one in the entry hall and I swear it was twenty feet tall….well; it seemed like twenty feet. Then there was another tree in the parlor…my favorite because that's where the presents were…." He smiled and then laughed out loud as more memories surfaced. "One year, I was probably five years old, JP…."

"Who's JP" she asked?

"My brother."

"Oh yeah. Ok."

Logan continued. "He and I were playing hockey in the parlor. I have no idea where mom and dad were and I know we weren't supposed to do it. .."

"I'll bet" she agreed. "Logan, how do you play hockey indoors?"

"With our tennis rackets and ball. Where's your imagination?"

"Oh lord!" She laughed. "_You_ played tennis? I can't picture it."

He shot her a sour look.

"Sorry. Keep going, this is too funny. So what happened?"

"JP whacked the tennis ball and hit me square in the forehead. I was standing right in front of that tree and when it smacked me I fell back…"

She knew exactly where this was going and was just about splitting her sides with laughter.

"…and the whole damn thing went over. I mean there had to have been fifty years worth of decorations that got smashed to pieces. Even worse, the tree hit the piano and scratched the hell out of the top of it."

"You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Nah! Not then but we got our butts blistered later. It's one of the few times that JP ever got the belt and least that I knew about."

"The belt!" Horrified, she immediately stopped laughing.

He shook his head dismissively. "Yeah! I used to get it all the time. My Dad wasn't mean about it and never hit very hard… Well most of the time." He scowled the funny memory being overridden by this unpleasant one.

It was a good time to change the subject. "Hey, if a real tree means that much to you then let's go pick one out later. We can put it in the family room. I think the ceiling's high enough for at least a fifteen footer."

Logan beamed like a little kid. "Really?"

"Really!"

"Cool. I know this great Christmas tree farm not too far away. It's where the Professor gets the big one for the School."

They drove to storage together. She put a Harry Connick, Jr. Christmas CD into the player. She rested her head on his shoulder as they sang along to Winter Wonderland. "You seem so happy, Bright Eyes."

He smiled and put his arm around her. "Yep."

It took the rest of the morning and a significant chunk of early afternoon for Logan to assemble three huge Christmas trees and he was extremely grateful that they were pre-lit. She had him place one in the game room, another in the music room and the third one in the entry hall. It was her job to arrange the misshapen branches and they'd put up the decorations later.

"Come have some lunch" she said as he struggled with the last one.

He sniffed the aroma from the kitchen; tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches worked for him! He just grabbed a bag of potato chips before he sat down.

Already at her place at the table she was going through mail. There were a few early Christmas cards in the lot. "Oh. Here's something from Canada."

He reached for it. "Lemme see." Obviously a Christmas card, it was addressed to Mr. And Mrs. J.A. Logan and the return address was Mme. E. D. Howlett. He tore open the envelope and read the card to himself, much to her irritation.

"What does it say" she finally asked?

He read the card and the handwritten message to her in French, just as it was written.

"That's a big help" she said sarcastically. "Come on, what does your mother say?"

He began again, this time translating the greeting which she figured out. She wanted to know what the handwritten message was about. "She's inviting us to come for the holidays." He didn't seem terribly impressed or interested.

"Really? How nice. Why don't we?"

He snorted and smirked. "We've got our plans set. Besides, she's just being polite; doubt she really means it."

"Logan, how can you say that? If she hadn't meant it, she'd never have taken the time to make the invite"

"Come on, Sue! In the last thirty years I've seen her twice and that's been in the last six months."

"That's beside the point. Our plans aren't completely set in stone. Isn't the estate near Banff?"

"It is the point" he retorted. "Yeah, it's near Banff. Why?"

"Because I could cancel reservations at Keystone and we could go there instead."

"No" he said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Shit! I don't know. It's not the right time. I just don't feel like it." He pushed away from the table, indicating he didn't want to discuss it further.

"Will you just think about it?"

"What's to think about?"

"You've wanted to get your life back after so many years and now you're finally handed this fantastic opportunity. You've got to grab it. Your mom's not young. Don't you want to build a relationship with her? Don't you want her to have a chance to be a grandmother to the twins?"

"Whoa! Hold on, Susan. I'm pretty happy with what I've got right now."

"I know. All right, I can accept that but the invite was addressed to both of us. What if I want to build a relationship with her? Please tell me you'll think about it?"

Logan gave a sour look and shook his head but then acquiesced. "I'll think about it" he said resignedly. "I'm going to get started on the lights."

Outside, all around the neighborhood, there was a lot of decorating activity going on. Mostly men, be they husbands, teenaged sons or whatever, hauling out ladders, arms draped with strings of electric lights or greenery. Logan pulled the extension ladder from the garage and set it against the front of the house. Susan being a meticulous organizer, had boxes clearly marked so that he knew exactly what went where. Up the ladder he went, with the first set of lights draped over his shoulders. While he was on the roof securing the first strands, he smelled a familiar but unwanted presence; his next door neighbor, Victor Creed. Logan had been doing his level best to avoid and ignore that entire issue.

Creed didn't care either way if Logan was his next door neighbor though still got a kick out of bedeviling Logan when he got a chance. Creed was apparently doing the same thing; trying to install Christmas lights on his rooftop but didn't have a good ladder for the job. He sauntered over and stood at the bottom of Logan's ladder. "Hey Ru….Wolv…." He was going to call Logan Runt or Wolverine but since he was aiming to borrow the ladder, thought better. "….um, Logan? Mind if I borrow the ladder when yer done?"

That's not what Logan expected. He figured Creed was coming over to hassle him and maybe even be obnoxious enough to move the ladder so that he'd have had to jump from the roof. So much for the rude and hostile comeback he was ready with. "Uh…I guess so." He went back to work, trying his best to ignore Creed standing below. How the hell do you ignore someone who'd been a mortal enemy more than once in the past? Logan wasn't nervous but that adrenalin- fueled fighting instinct that surged through him just didn't go with Christmas decorating.

Creed had the same sharp senses as Logan and knew exactly what his state of being was and started to laugh.

Agitations obvious, Logan sneered "What's so fuckin' funny?"

"Yer momma" Creed answered.

Logan did not need to hear that. His piss off meter was getting close to red line.

"Ya know, ya really ought to take some anger management classes or maybe even check out Prozac" Creed continued knowing that he was pushing Logan's buttons. Creed just couldn't help it; the Runt always bit the bait.

The anger management-Prozac comment pushed his limit. He sprang from the rooftop and landed just a foot from Creed. He didn't snap out his claws, but definitely was in an offensive posture. "Who the hell gave you a license to practice psychiatry?"

Creed didn't react; just stood his ground and smiled condescendingly. "Just chill. I told ya a few weeks back home's neutral ground. If I'm out to get ya, ya know it. I'm not and never will be _'round here_."

Logan knew in his gut what he said was true and he didn't smell deceit or true animosity. He nodded and relaxed a little though couldn't let go enough to turn his back to Creed. "I've got two more strands that go up there" he said, tension still reverberating in his voice. "After that, the ladder's all yours." He moved the ladder to another high part of the house and began to climb. "Creed, would you mind makin' yourself scarce? You're kind of fuckin' up my Christmas mood."

Creed laughed again. "Yeah, whatever Runt." As he walked toward his yard he called back "Got some decent German beer over here; figure it's a fair trade for borrowin' yer ladder, if yer not too proud of an asshole to accept."

Logan looked down from the roof, cocked an eyebrow. "Ain't never too proud to turn down good beer. By the way, takes one to know one."

"Ha! True 'dat. Ain't debating with ya who's the bigger asshole" Creed hollered back and then set to work in his yard.

"I'll concede the honor to you" Logan replied.

Creed flipped him the bird.

He wished he could remember more of the shared history between him and Creed. His only memory was the Liberty Island incident where they had been on opposing sides. For a time the battle between them could have gone either way. While Logan finished installing the light strands he tried to remember more about his shared history with Creed. He accidentally cut himself and as the wound healed his mind drifted into a memory.

_He'd been at Fort Saskatchewan School for Boys for a week or two and was reeling from so much trauma; the death of this 'father' and his birth father; his mutant gifts just beginning to emerge; being shot; his mother abandoning him; all simply too much for any fifteen year old to deal with._

_Creed had been there for more than a year and it was his 'duty' to make sure newcomers toed the line and took their proper place. He took perverse pleasure in abusing Logan, who was known as Jamie Logan then, every chance he got. Creed had always been a rough, tough, crude individual but at the time did have standards._

_Some boys, but not Creed in this instance, cornered him. After taunting him about his upper crust, aloof, pain- in- the- ass attitude, they set upon him, first beating him. Logan fought back, but had never faced the numbers of assailants or the ferocity of these boys. They took him down in no time and when they brought him under their control, they did things that he'd only been lectured about as mortal sins. Not only did they did hurt him physically, they stripped his fragile self-esteem and left his youthful Catholic conscience convinced that he was going to hell to matter what._

_He woke in the school infirmary. The matron gave no sympathy and reinforced his feelings of self-loathing. When he finally recovered enough, he gone into the lavatory, taken a razor blade and sliced every pulse point he knew existed. He nearly succeeded except for the fact that Creed found him, drenched in his own blood. Victor Creed stayed with him, keeping him from slipping into shock until his still maturing mutation, kicked in and healed him. It was a very uncertain, long night. For many years after that Victor Creed and Jamie Logan would be kindred spirits even though Creed continually alternated between bedeviling and saving his ass though many years. _

Reeling and humbled from that memory he did accept the beer. They stood around in Creeds garage sucking down about a six pack a piece and savoring some of Logan's cigars he kept stashed in his garage. They didn't exactly bond as friends, but established a truce agreeing they'd respect each other's territory; meaning Creed wouldn't divulge to powers that might want to know where Logan resided and he in turn didn't know a thing about Creeds whereabouts.

Their conversation was interrupted when Logan heard Susan call to him. Relaxed from six quick beers in a row, he ambled out of Creeds garage to answer her, cigar still clamped in his mouth. "Yo Babe. What's up?"

She was just a bit surprised to see where he came from. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Creed." She often spoke to him whenever the crossed paths.

"How ya doin' today, Dr. Harris?"

"Good. I can see you two are feeling no pain." She crossed her arms over herself and looked at Logan questioningly. "Am I to assume we don't need to sell the house?" She was referring to the fight they'd had a few weeks ago.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Not this week."

"Nice to know, Bright Eyes. I need you to start up the grill, please. Oh, and lose the stink stick."

_No, she did not just call me that in front of Creed!_ He shot her one of those 'we are going to have a talk' look. "Yes dear" he answered with sarcasm.

Actually she regretted the slip the moment she said it. She tried to be careful to call him that only in private. She may have used his nickname when they had their get-together's with Vic and Electra, but really didn't think so. If she had, the Marquez's would never make anything over it because Electra had her own pet name for Vic and it definitely couldn't be used in polite company. At least her nickname for Logan was completely G-rated.

She went back into the house and he started around the side of the house for the backyard. Creed didn't miss the nickname and snickered when she was out of earshot. The more he thought about Logan-- Wolverine, being called Bright Eyes, the funnier it struck him and he laugh loudly. Following him, he teased "Oh Bright eyes."

"Fuck off Creed."

Creed continued to laugh and gasped "Where in the hell did she come up with that one?"

Embarrassed and angry he snarled, "I don't know. Why don't ya ask her?"

Susan could hear the ruckus they were making from the kitchen. She thought to herself they were both acting like really obnoxious teenaged boys and decided maybe it was time for a little damage control on her part. How to accomplish it without insulting Creed, while completely supporting Logan was the puzzle. She grabbed the phone, dialed Linda, explained the situation and asked her help. It was time to get both 'boys' busy with separate tasks.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER FORTY

The mutant virus now isolated and classified by Drs. Henry McCoy and Moira McTaggart as H1N2M1, now called the Mutant Flu was still plaguing mutant populations. Magneto and his Brotherhood had been hard hit. They'd been keeping a low profile since Alkali Lake but took the risk of contacting Charles for assistance. Charles asked his medical staff for volunteers to collect specimens from the Brotherhood. Susan agreed to go at once.

When Logan heard the news at the end of a gym session with the students, he raced straight from the gym to her office. He arrived as she finished packing a bag of sampling equipment and general medical supplies to take along. He stopped at the doorway and his eyes blazed with anger. "I'm only going to say this once; I do_ not_ want you to go."

Susan closed her eyes, tilted her head back and sighed as she struggled for just the right reply. The only_ right_ answer was to agree with him, however she wasn't going to do that. She did agree with his concerns, but the research had to be done. She had to have the blood samples from Magneto's Brotherhood. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she turned to face him."Honey, I'm going to be fine. Hank and I are going. Lensherr's is not going to pull anything."

Logan snorted "You can't trust him."

"I never said I did but I have a job to do and you have to understand. Do I give you grief when you go on a mission? We have got to get this virus figured out for the sake of all mutants and studying blood from victims is one of the best ways. Come on, we've been through this before when you filled me in on our neighbor. I understand what they're capable of, but they need care too."

He just swore and glared at her.

"Logan, what's the deal?"

His voice rose in volume as he paced. "For God's sake, Susan, what do you think? Magneto's the...enemy. Shit, he's out to get me as much as I'm out to get him." He paused, drew a breath and then lowered his voice. "The deal is... I'm scared he'll connect us... or even connect you and... Damn it, Sue, you've got knowledge that he wants."

Oh, Babe" she went to him and put her arms around his waist. "I'm not going for social hour. I'm going to get the samples and come straight back."

Logan stepped back from her embrace and ran his hands over her pregnant belly. The anger was gone from his expression and worry replaced it. "I still don't want you to go. Hank and Electra are perfectly capable; besides, you're not even supposed to be doing that much."

"Honey, I'm fine today and I'll be careful." She locked her hands with his, both of them caressing the twins in her belly.

"You're not listening to me are you?" His anger flared again.

"Yes, I am." She stood on tip toes and kissed him gently. "I'll see you soon." She grabbed her gear, slipped past him and exited the room.

He was left there, anger, frustration and fears boiling. The thought of her or the twins being in any kind of danger made him crazy and he needed to find a way to work it out or he was going to hurt something or someone. Stalking over the elevator he punched the down button. A session in the Danger Room might cool him off.

He programmed a track and destroy sequence with a holographic Magneto and Mystique. As he got into the tracking sequence something seemed wrong. His senses seemed "off" and he couldn't get a fix on his holographic prey. _This ain't right,_ he thought, _Get a grip, bub, you're lettin' her get to ya._

As the session continued, the enemy nearly got the jump on him. At the last possible second, he managed to overtake them. Ejecting claws with a bellow, skewering the holographic images, he let the berserker in him reign free; slashing and gutting and mutilating. He didn't know how much time had passed before the rage had burned out enough to stop. When he did, he became immediately aware of a significant amount of blood splattered everywhere. _What the hell's going on?_ The blood came from his knuckles. He retracted his claws and to his shock, they didn't heal! He wasn't sure what was happening or what to do so he thought he'd better get to the med lab and wondered if Susan had returned. Leaving a trail of blood as he went it struck him that no qualified medical professional was at School at the moment; even Electra, while on the grounds somewhere, wasn't quickly available. _What if an emergency came up?_ _Hell, I'm_ _havin'_ _an emergency!_ _Ok, here's a valid staff meeting topic: a qualified medical professional needed to be immediately available at all times_. Was he ever going to make sure that was on the agenda at the next staff meeting.

He raised his hands and watched the blood trickle down his arm. The wounds gaped and he could see the glint of his metallic knuckle joints and did it ever hurt. Then it dawned on him. _Holy shit, the virus! I've got it!_ It nullified his healing power. That must have been why he was so "off" in the tracking simulation. Panicking was not going to be helpful, but he felt the urge to do so. _Nothin' to do but wait._ He rummaged through a cabinet looking for something to wrap around his hands and then went to Susan's office.

It wasn't long until she and Hank returned perfectly safe with the specimen's. They must have run into Electra on the way back to the clinic, because they were chatting up a storm as they approached. They froze the moment they saw him all covered in drying blood with his hands poorly wrapped in gauze. "Oh my God!" Susan emphasized each word. "What happened?"

As Logan just shrugged Hank answered, "I do believe we have another case of the virus. I'd thought that maybe he'd be immune". Hank had been affected, having temporarily reverted back to a more human form, and had just recently recovered.

Logan told them what happened then asked "What am I gonna do?"

Sue unwrapped the blood soaked gauze from his knuckles. "This is lovely" she said with mild sarcasm. "Electra, please get some lidocaine and a few suture kits."

"What are you going to do?" Logan asked.

"Stitch you up." She motioned him over the closest exam room. "Come here. Sit down; both hands on the table" she ordered, putting on her lab coat. "Hank, your choice to stick around or not."

"I'm sure Logan is in capable hands. I'll make myself useful elsewhere."

"You're going to stitch this?" Logan asked his wife, looking wary.

"Well, yeah! Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Bandages would be just fine."

"Logan, these go down to the bone. You've got the virus and since it lasts about a week you're probably not going to do too much healing on your own" she explained as she inspected the affected areas.

Electra brought the lidocaine syringes and suture kits.

"Umm, ladies... this isn't by any chance... painful?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Like a bee sting, miho" Electra answered.

"You're not going to pass out on me, are you?" Susan joked remembering how he reacted when she'd extracted the glass from his neck after the motor cycle wreck. Poor guy went white as a sheet and… well anyway.

"No. I'm not going to pass out on you" he answered sarcastically. As Electra injected the area around the wounds with the lidocaine, he added "but, I think I might not watch." and closed his eyes.

"Ouch, that stings" he groused after the first injection. "Damn, quit already." he complained at the second.

"Logan..." Electra said "...shut-up."

Susan snickered.

"Well thank you for your support, my dear."

"Hon, this is the worst part. We've_ got_ to numb each knuckle so the sutures won't hurt."

"Yeah, I know the theory. Just get it over with." It took about four stitches in each knuckle to close the wounds. Electra worked on one hand and Sue, the other. They bandaged him and told him he could open his eyes. Staring at the bandages, he complained, "Oh, man. How am I going to be able to do anything?"

"You're not" came an answer in unison from both women.

"You've got a week sick leave, my dear; that's about how long the virus lasts." Susan's eyes twinkled and she added "I think I'm inclined to put you in a padded room. Seriously, Logan you need to keep your hands as still as possible or you'll risk ripping the sutures."

"That just great Susan! How am I supposed to coach? How am I supposed to work on my class assignments? Typing and writing take just a bit of finger work, ya know. Shit, I probably can't even drive!"

"We'll deal with it, ok" she promised and gathered some antibiotic samples from a nearby cabinet.

Electra asked, "Susan, do you think he should have a Tetanus shot?"

She thought for a second. "Yes, I do." Then speaking to him "With this virus I'm not certain how your immune system will be affected so let's not risk Tetanus."

Electra came in, swabbed his arm with alcohol and jabbed in the needle.

He winced. "Ow! That really hurts."

"I'm sorry. Tetanus shots aren't much fun."

"No kidding. Susan, can we go home now?" he whined.

"Soon, Babe. I've got some things to finish up first."

"Oh, forget about it, Sue" Electra said. "I'll handle it."

"Are you sure? Thanks, so much. I _am_ tired." Susan smiled at her friend and unconsciously patted her belly feeling the babies flutter.

That evening both were relaxing in front of the TV. Susan's legs were propped over his lap as he studied for an exam. "Do you think its cold in here?" he asked.

"No, not really. Do you?"

"No. I'm just makin' conversation." he replied sarcastically

"Ok cranky, do you want the blanket?" She reached across the couch for the plaid throw.

He brushed it harshly away. "Suit yourself. What's with you tonight? You've been in a crappy mood all evening."

"You want the long or short list?" he answered tersely. "My hands hurt, I've got a boat-load of studying to do, and I'm just a little freaked out about this virus thing….." Suddenly he was hit by a fit of dry, hacking, deep in the chest coughing. "Now what's up with this? he said, standing up, shoulders hunched, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously still feeling chilled.

"I'd say you're stressing just a bit, Bright Eyes." She stood and hugged him. "Hey, you feel warm." She reached up to touch his forehead. "I think you've got fever."

"Bull! I don't get sick" he answered and coughed again.

"Well, maybe you do with this virus." A look of extreme concern clouded her face, an expression that didn't make him feel secure.

"What?" he asked

"Nothing."

"Nah-ah! What are you thinking?" He was insistent.

"Just that nullifying your powers and immune system might leave you susceptible to all kinds of nasty bugs."

"I really don't need this right now." He sounded frustrated. He went to the bedroom, dug out a sweatshirt, pulled it on then went back to studying even though coughing kept distracting them both.

"Do you want something for that cough?" she asked quietly

"No"

His coughing was driving her crazy. "Oh for heaven's sake Logan, do something!"

"Like what?" he responded tensely

"How about I fix you a toddy?"

"You'd do that?"

"Anything to quiet that cough" she said going to the liquor cabinet. "I'd take one myself, except it's too strong for the babies."

He sipped on the warm drink she made. It did quiet the cough and warm him up.

"I'm going to bed." he said after about another hour.

"I'm right behind you." She yawned. "Gotta feed the cats and set up the coffee maker."

Logan coughed most of the night. When he wasn't coughing, he tossed and turned alternating between feeling cold or too hot. Around three in the morning he woke up, his throat was so sore he could barely swallow or speak; his whole body ached and he shivered. "Susan." he whispered in the darkness. She didn't answer. "Susan." He nudged her.

"Hmmmm"

He coughed again. "I think I _am_ sick."

She sat up, stretched and touched his hot forehead. "I'd say so." She got out of bed and retrieved a thermometer from the bathroom closet.

"My throat and stomach hurts" he whined as she put the thermometer in his mouth.

"Sound a lot like strep or maybe the flu."

His eyes grew wide. "What am I gonna do?"

"Don't talk" she ordered. A few minutes later she slipped the thermometer from between his lips. "102.4, yeah, I'd say you're sick."

He groaned and coughed again. "That hurts." he rubbed his bandaged hand over his chest. Every time he coughed his chest ached and burned. "What am I gonna do?" he repeated.

"You're going to do what everyone else does. Rest, fluids, Motrin."

"I've got two finals tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right. Well I can probably dose you up enough to get you through" she assured him. "Let me get you something for your fever."

"I'll get it." he said getting out of bed. "Gotta piss anyway."

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes he was just a little too expressive.

She heard the toilet flush and when he didn't come out after a minute, she called to him. "You ok?"

"My stomach hurts." he mumbled from behind the door. He coughed hard, gagged and then threw up. That was followed by a string of expletives after which he emerged, shivering and looking pale. "Just shoot me now" he said between swallowing four Motrins chased by some water. The Motrin gave him and few good hours of sleep, in turn allowing her a few very much needed hours of sleep. A bad night for her equaled a lot of morning sickness the next day.

Susan switched off her alarm clock just before it buzzed; he didn't need to awaken at five a.m. He was sound asleep and didn't even twitch when she slid quietly out of bed. That was unheard of for him. He always knew what was up, even if he pretended not too.

Retrieving the morning paper from the driveway, as was her next door neighbor, she asked Creed if he knew of anyone that had been stricken with the Mutant Flu. He told her he'd heard from some former Brotherhood comrades who'd been stricken but that was old news to her. He inquired about how the School was holding out and she shared that they'd gone through the worst of it and were dealing mostly with more seasonal type of germs.

"Did the Runt miss out on the virus?"

"Victor, I wish you'd quit calling him that" she admonished. It didn't bother her that much but she knew it irritated Logan to no end. "No, he didn't. He came down with it yesterday."

"I'm sorry." He sympathized over Logan's misfortune and sort of apologized for his tease. "I've lucked out, so far" he added

"That's good." Susan replied. "Aren't your mutations similar to Logan's?"

"Yeah, but not nearly as fast healing."

She nodded and then bid him a nice day. It was cold standing there in the driveway, even if her terry robe was thick.

Later she met Electra at their usual spot for their twice weekly morning walk. It used to be a run, but pregnancy put a restriction on that. Since she had blood pressure problems and early contractions, even her walk had been reduced to a mere stroll and half the distance, at that.

She told Electra about Logan's misery. The two women debated and lamented over how grown men were such babies when sick which lead to the inevitable comparisons of men having to deal with cramps or, heaven forbid, the pain of childbirth. After laughing their heads off, Electra did sympathize that the whole deal for him had to be difficult at best. He didn't_ do_ sick and Susan concurred.

They discussed their concerns over the lack of support from the CDC. It wasn't unexpected, but it was disappointing. Government agencies were shying away from any issues that involved mutants because laws were changing but implementation was, as yet, unclear. They discussed Hank's the difficulty of isolating a vaccine and then ended their walk with Susan asking Electra to corner Logan and strep and flu swab him if Hank didn't get the chance.

Susan explained she was going to be out, even though it was her scheduled day at School. Once a week, until her obstetrician decided otherwise, she had to go for an hour long monitoring session to confirm that she was not having contractions and the twins heart rates were doing ok. At least she'd graduated from wearing the portable monitor twenty four/seven.

A bit after seven, Susan brought Logan some hot tea with honey. "Logan. Wake up, hon." she gently shook him.

He groaned and coughed. "Don't want to" he whimpered. He stretched and popped his joints and coughed some more. He sat up ever so slowly, took a sip of the tea, wincing as he swallowed. It tasted good but hurt going down his raw throat. Mug in hand, he trudged over to the bathroom sink, stood there for a while debating whether he had the energy to shower. He didn't and he didn't even care, so brushing his teeth was going to have to be ok for today.

"I've got something to get you through your exams this morning." Susan said handing him the electronic toothbrush handle.

He grunted approval. While he brushed his teeth, she pulled two vials from the small fridge she kept in the lounge area of their bedroom and filled a syringe with a few ccs from each vial.

"What the hell is that?" He eyed the syringe suspiciously. His voice was gravelly from the cough and sore throat.

"B-12 and dexamethasone. . . Where do you want it? Backside or arm?"

"And this is going to do what?"

"Make you feel ok enough to survive your exams."

"Ok." he sighed and held out his arm then grimaced when she injected him.

"Take four more Motrins now and again at noon and you'll be functional for most of the day" she instructed then reached up and felt the side of his neck. "Open your mouth and let me see your throat."

"No. Why?" He just wanted to be left alone in misery.

"You've got some swollen glands going on, now open up." He scowled and did as he was told. Then she pointed to the edge of the bath tub "Sit. He was too tall for her to get a good look.

He tried to back away and gagged when she used a tongue depressor. "Quit already" he complained. "You tryin' to make me puke?"

"Oh, you're ok. When you're through with your exams I want you to come by the clinic and let Electra strep you."

"Do what?"

"It doesn't hurt; I promise."

"That's what they all say. Look Sue, all I wanna do is get through this morning, come back home and sleep."

"I know. I just want to be certain what were dealing with."

"What difference does it make? I'm sick."

"It makes a lot of difference. Besides I want to recheck the stitches, too."

"Fine! Whatever." His frustration was evident and he just wanted to be left alone. He threw on some jeans and a hoodie sweat shirt. He looked like a bum and he didn't give a damn. "Gotta go" he said gruffly.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not hungry" he answered "I'll stop at 'bucks and grab a coffee and something." He meant Starbucks on the way to the campus.

"Ok. See you later. Good luck, Bright Eyes. Love you" she hollered as he made his way through the house.

"Thanks. Love you too, darlin'" he yelled back and promptly had a coughing fit.

Logan pulled into the parking lot at Westchester Community College. Marie, in her Mustang pulled in right beside him. Marie took a look at an obviously unshowered and generally very scruffy Logan and exclaimed. "Pulled an all- nighter, huh?" referring to the possibility that he had studied all night.

"Nah, kid. I'm sick." he answered with a cough and a grimace.

"Logan, you don't get sick."

"I've got that freakin' virus. You know..."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It' got my immune system screwed up and Sue thinks I got the flu now because of it."

"That sucks" she said.

"Big time" he agreed. "Ready for the test?"

"No. I'm never ready for tests. They just freak me out. How 'bout you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I never did real well in my previous life."

"Are ya startin' to remember some?"

"Yeah, a few things every now and then; kinda of comes to me when I'm not expecting it. I'll do something or see something and I'll remember. It's weird." He held the door open for her. "Let's do it." he said and found a seat.

"Yep. Good luck" she said.

He winked and smiled at her.

The meds that Susan gave him helped. He didn't feel exactly himself, but the body aches, sore throat and stomach ache seemed tolerable. He wished he'd taken some of the cough medicine she'd offered but he could sip coffee during the exam and that helped a little.

He finished up the psychology exam in about an hour. It was an essay exam and not long into it his hands ached and burned from the stress he put on the knuckle wounds. He had absolutely no idea how he did. Because he was mildly dyslexic, writing was a challenge. Thank heavens for spell and grammar check when it came to typing essays. Unfortunately for the exam there was no computer and he had to write the answers out in longhand.

The second exam he took focused on coaching techniques and theory for high school level sports and was more to his liking and he felt confident. He hoped he'd aced it but remembered feeling like he'd aced a test before and in reality had not.

Come to think of it, he'd flunked out of University the first time. Now there was a memory! He'd flunked out because he had been screwed up on drugs and gone to class stoned more times than not, if he even went. No wonder Elizabeth had kicked his ass out. He had really been an idiot then trying everything back in those hedonistic late 1960's. He could have been the poster boy for sex, drugs and rock and roll and was sure he'd be dead by now if it hadn't been for his mutation.

Driving back after the exams, he remembered Altamont when he'd been riding with the Hells Angels. That concert was messed up from the start and got out of control fast. Booze, drugs, guns and crazy people made a toxic mix. He'd been assigned to 'guard' against non-paying concert- goers. A particularly cute chick wanted to get in and she didn't have any money, but was willing to offer him a 'trade'. She had to have been underage but hell, he was only nineteen. Things between them were getting hot and heavy when all hell broke loose; gun shots and screams and people running everywhere. He'd told her;…. what was her name? Laura? Lisa? No, Lorelei!... he'd told Lorelei to run and he'd catch up with her hoping they'd hook up later. He never saw her alive again!

It had pissed him off so badly that he went on a drug and booze binge of epic proportions ingesting and shooting up with anything he could buy, beg or steal. His powers were still developing so he could 'reap some benefit' from recreational chemicals and if he hadn't been a mutant, he'd probably overdosed for sure.

When the cops had picked him up and charged him, as they had other Hell's Angel's he was so messed up he didn't know what was happening. There was large gap in his memory about the aftermath of Altamont that he knew wasn't caused by any brainwashing or memory chips. He vaguely recalled a jail cell and some things that happened in the jail cell that were best forgotten. He could recall the hell of coming down off that binge because healing or de-toxing was slower then.

That incident got him deported back to Canada. He remembered being escorted to the border and unceremoniously turned over to Canadian authorities. He didn't go to prison because Elizabeth had come to his rescue. Afterward he tried to turn his life around but didn't have the will to get off the drugs and booze at that stage of his life. He was too rebellious and didn't take anything seriously.

Logan shook the memory away as he pulled up in front of Xavier's School easing his new pick-up into its designated space in the garage. He went to the clinic remembering his promise to Susan to get checked over. The clinic was packed overflowing into the hallway with sick kids. Waning were last cases of the Mutant Flu and on the rise was Influenza and a nasty stomach bug. He didn't really want to be there because kids puking into any receptacle available turned his stomach. It would be totally uncool for the Great Wolverine to lose it in front of them and he was just barely hanging on. That reasoning plus the long wait was his excuse out of it. Besides, hadn't Susan told him to try and keep away from obviously sick people?

Instead he went to his office. There was an e-mail from Charles stating classes were to be suspended for a few days due to the rapidly spreading illnesses among the students and staff. That was a great relief because he still had one more exam and didn't have a clue how long he was going to feel so lousy.

Lunch time came around and out of habit he headed to the dining room. He wasn't really hungry but again out of habit, ordered up a burger and a pile of fries. When Mrs. Burns set it down in front of him, he suddenly felt queasy and his pallor faded.

Dear old Mrs. Burns sized up the situation and figured out he wasn't quite himself. "Don't panic Laddie, everybody's sick around here. Let me bring you some chicken soup." The portly woman removed the burger plate and hurried back with soup. It was much easier to cope with and Logan managed about half a bowl.

Later he checked out the line at the clinic and found it much smaller. Hank spotted him waiting and motioned him directly in. "Your bride clued me in." Hank shared as he settled Logan into an examining room. "Said to strep and swab you."

"Yeah, whatever Beast. I'll spear your guts if this hurts." Logan was joking.

"You know, Wolverine, there is a tradition among medical professionals."

"What's that?"

"The more obnoxious the patient the more invasive testing we order."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Don't threaten or I'll get out my protoscope!"

He knew what Hank was talking about and raised his arms in mock surrender "Yes sir; I _definitely_ retract it."

"Good man. Now open up and stick out your tongue" he ordered. Before Logan knew what was coming Hank swabbed his throat and sinuses. Logan coughed, sneezed and looked extremely irritated in the aftermath.

"What have you been feeling?" Hank asked

"I feel like shit."

"I'm aware of that. Symptoms Logan; tell me about them."

"Throat hurts; stomach hurts, puked last night. Sue told me my temp was 102 or something." He coughed again. "And this damn cough."

"Any diarrhea?" Hank asked nonchalantly

Logan looked at him in utter disbelief and disgust and replied firmly, "No."

"Headache?"

"Hurts, but nothing like a couple of weeks ago."

"You know Logan; you're becoming one of my high- maintenance, frequent- flyer patients."

"Not by choice."

"I believe you. Ok, you've got the Mutant Flu, that's confirmed from your labs yesterday. With your powers being what they are, and now basically off-line, you're probably going to come down with everything and anything."

"Ya got any good news, Hank?"

Hank didn't answer as he read the strep and flu tests. "Not today, my friend. You have strep throat and Influenza Type A."

"I'm just a lucky guy. So now what?"

"Logan, this could become very serious. I want you to go home, get in bed and stay there until the virus runs its course and your powers return."

"Come on, Hank! I've got another exam. I've got a life."

"Let me tell you, it can get worse. You've got zero immunity" he re-emphasized. "Let me see the knuckles." He grabbed Logan's hand and carefully pulled off the bandages. The wounds were an angry red and pus oozed from a few stitches.

"Do these hurt?"

Logan nodded

"You're showing signs of infection."

"Ok. Come on, I've been through worse."

"I'm sure. Listen to me, for the duration of this virus you are at its mercy. There isn't a bloody thing I can do for you until it runs its course. With your immunity and healing gone, you are basically a walking incubator for any disease that comes along."

"What are ya saying, Hank?"

Hank sighed in exasperation. "Don't be obtuse! If you have a death wish you might just get it. I have no idea whether you'll respond to antibiotics. Strep used to kill people less than a century ago. Flu killed millions in 1918, '57 and '68 and the infection in your knuckles could become septic. Do you understand?"

"Septic?"

"Ever here of the old fashioned term blood poisoning?"

"Yeah. More Normals die from it than survive."

"That's correct.You've got the idea. Now get another idea…right now, you're a Normal!" Hank's voice rose as he spoke. He paused to stare Logan directly in the face. "Need I elaborate more?"

Logan looked away, first irritated and then looked back at Hank with resignation. "No. You proved your point. You know, I never had these problems when I was travelin' around. It's seems like in the last year or so... Hell, it doesn't matter."

"Logan, go home and just take it easy; watch TV, read a book, sleep. It only lasts five to seven days."

"It's not the virus I'm worried about. It's the other junk that I might get."

"That's why I said GO HOME."

"Roger that, Beast."

"And here" Hank handed over penicillin and an anti-viral for Type A Flu. "Take the Pen-VK three times a day until they're done and Symmetrel twice daily."

He looked over the bottles carefully and asked. "What'll these do?"

"Honestly Logan, I'm not certain in your case, but it's not going to cause harm."

Logan shrugged and walked away.

Being stubborn he didn't go straight home. Instead he went back to his office to gather up some things. If he had to be stuck at home, at least he could use the time to work on plans for the training camp. As he downloaded files he started to feel bad. The chills returned, his head pounded, the muscles in his neck and shoulders were aching and stiff and stomach churned. Scott came by to remind him of a staff meeting and took one look at his glassy eyed, fever-flushed team mate and immediately excused him from the staff meeting.

He made it back home in one piece, but not without having to pull over and be unpleasantly reintroduced to his lunch. When he pulled into the driveway, the urge to be sick again overwhelmed him and he dashed out of his truck, barely making it to the bathroom. When he could finally get it together, he went in search of the anti-nausea medicine Susan kept around. He couldn't find it so he called her on the phone.

"It's the bottle labeled promethazine" she informed him. "What did Hank say?"

"Why in the hell does it say prometh-whatever-?" Logan was irritated at his own ignorance and just didn't have tolerance for complications.

"That's what it's called. What did Hank say?"

"Strep and the flu" he answered in monotone.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Logan, what are you supposed to do? Do I have to call Hank?"

"No you don't have to call Hank" he snipped. "He gave me some pills and told me to stay home." He coughed and started to feel nauseated again. "Sue, I gotta go. When ya comin home?"

"Probably in an hour or two. You going to be ok?"

"Yeah" he answered and then clicked off the phone. No, he wasn't sure he was going to be ok but hell if he wasn't going to admit it. How in the hell did anyone deal with being sick?

He was stretched out on the couch snoozing when she got home that evening. His normally acute senses were completely off line and he didn't even twitch as she came in the door. He looked comfortable and peaceful so Susan didn't disturb him.

She changed clothes and set about making some chicken soup out of a can. The lights from the kitchen woke him up. He sat up, looking lost and dazed. "Didn't mean to bother you, Bright eyes" she said standing by the stove. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah" he answered groggily and got up and went to the fridge. "I'm thirsty" he said staring into the fridge. Nothing appealed.

"I'll make you some tea, if you want" she volunteered.

He nodded, coughed and sat down at the kitchen table. "How was your day?"

"Not as rough as yours, I think. How are you feeling?"

"I'll live, I guess." His voice was rough and deeper than normal. "I'll tell ya though; I'm developing a whole new outlook on my mutation."

"What do you mean?"

"There were so many times I wished I never had it and now I wanna get over this damn thing and get my powers back." He coughed hard making him momentarily breathless. "This sucks" he whined when he finally could breathe again.

Susan smiled and nodded. "The flu is really bad this season. Paula told me Westchester General saw one hundred fifty cases in the last twenty four hours and School's got more than its share" she said, placing two bowls of steaming soup on the table. They ate in silence. She was bone-weary from a poor nights sleep and too long of a day.

Logan noticed her fatigued appearance and commented. "You're lookin' tired yourself, darlin'. Not over doin' it, eh?"

She shook her head, but it was a fib.

He sensed it but the most he could muster to help her out was to clear their soup bowls and set them in the sink. That would do for this evening. "I've got to try and study" he said wearily and settled back on the couch.

"When's the exam?" she asked and settled in on the other side of the couch to read professional journals.

"Tomorrow at eleven thirty. Do you think you can dose me with the stuff you gave me this morning?"

"Sure, provided you promise not to do anything until then."

"No problem." He patted the couch, "I'm stayin right here."

It wasn't long before he fell asleep on the couch. She decided it best not to disturb him and put an extra blanket over him and settled in for the night alone in their room. Her motives were not completely innocent as she desperately needed a good nights sleep and since he seemed comfy on the couch, his coughing, tossing and turning wouldn't keep her awake.

When his medication began to wear off a few hours later, he woke shivering and achy from the climbing fever and his stomach was threatening to erupt. There was a new symptom in the mix; he was itching all over. "Does this never freakin' end!" he said aloud and turned on the lamp beside him. Angry red, raised welts covered his arms. He lifted his t-shirt and his chest and belly were covered with them. He trudged to the bathroom to scout up more Motrin and whatever else he was supposed to take.

Susan awoke and mumbled "Do you need me?"

"No. Just time for drugs."

"Ok." she said and snuggled deeper into the covers.

He took another dose of Penicillin, and more Motrin and then stripped off his jeans and t-shirt and crawled in next to her. He tried to drift off to sleep but the itching kept him from it.

He scratched and twitched enough that she sat up. In exasperation she asked, "What's the matter with you?"

"I got all these red bumps all over and they itch like crazy" he answered in a pitiful tone.

"What?" she exclaimed and turned on the light. "Let me see. Oh Lord! This looks like hives. Are you allergic to penicillin?"

"I got no clue! Never taken the stuff."

"Well you need to stop taking it." She went to the well-stocked medicine cabinet and dug out Benadryl.

"I just took a dose. Is that a problem?" he asked.

"I hope not. Here take this."

"What is it?"

"Diphenhydramine. It's an anti-histamine."

"Could you translate that into something I can understand?"

"It stops allergic reactions."

"Will it stop this itching?" he said while continuing to scratch.

"That's what I just said, Logan." She sounded testy though she didn't mean to.

" Darlin', I'm sorry to be such a pain in the ass."

"Don't be Bright Eyes." She softened. "This isn't your fault. I wish I had something in my medicine bag of tricks to really help."

"Thanks. Guess it can't get much worse."

"God, I hope not! We'll have to change your antibiotic tomorrow. Now try to rest and _don't_ scratch."

"Right!" he replied sarcastically. He settled back and closed his eyes. About ten minutes later he broke out in a cold sweat. "Aw shit" the muttered and dashed for bathroom just in time for his stomach to rudely eject the medications he'd just taken and supper.

The following morning was even slower going for him than the previous. He'd finally slept, but badly, tossing, turning and coughing. Because he'd been unable to keep his medications down, he continued to itch from the hives and his fever remained high.

Susan stuck around instead of going for a morning swim and around nine she brought some tea to the bedside. His appearance in sleep, fever flushed with dark circles under closed eyes, was disturbing. She gently touched his forehead. He felt like he was burning up with fever. "Logan, honey, time to get up."

He stirred, moaned and coughed. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streaming in. "Close the blinds" he rasped and shielded his eyes with his arm.

"Brought you some tea and honey."

He nodded and grunted.

"Let me check your temp. She tried to insert the thermometer between his resisting lips.

"Knock it off" he growled, not wanting to be bothered.

"Hush!" she ordered. "Open up."

He did as he was told and sat up slowly, stiffly. "Whoa" he groaned! "Head rush."

It didn't take long for the thermometer to register 104.2. "Logan, you really shouldn't be going anywhere."

He waved her off and coughed. "Gotta take that exam."

"You know, you could post-pone it."

"Nah. I just wanna get it over with, come home and sleep."

"Well, I'm telling you my dear not-so-Bright Eyes, you need to give it up."

"Just dose me up, doc."

She sighed and looked skyward. "This is so against my better judgment" and she handed him four Tylenol. "Maybe this'll be easier on your stomach."

He took the pills, chased by tea and settled back. It took a while, but finally he felt a little better and sat up slowly. The head rush wasn't as bad but every joint in his body ached and his neck and shoulders felt stiff. Just making his way to the kitchen seemed to drain his energy. She'd left toast and more tea and he sat heavily on the stool at the breakfast bar. Just looking at the food made him queasy but he figured he'd better try to get some of it down. After half the tea and a few bites of toast, he forced himself to shower, hoping it might energize him and besides, he needed to. The shower didn't help; it actually made him feel more exhausted.

He just finished dressing when another head rush forced him to lean against a wall and his stomach turned over. He cursed aloud and quickly made his way back to the bathroom. A few minutes later, bathed in cold sweat and shivering, it occurred to him that he hadn't kept anything down in the past twenty four hours and wondered if things could get any worse.

He managed to get through the exam in a fever-fog and figured he failed, big-time; though by now he felt sicker and just didn't have enough energy to care. The day was overcast, yet the light bothered his eyes and made the pounding in his head worse. When he got home he was glad to close up the window blinds and bury his head under the pillows. He took some more Motrin, hoping for some relief from the head and neck ache. The headache was approaching levels like he'd experienced with the memory chips but just in a different place.

He was incredibly thirsty and with great effort, he dragged himself to the kitchen for something to drink. His stomach was so upset that nothing appealed, but settled on Sprite and took some more anti-emetic hoping to quell the nausea. Finally still shivering from spiking fever, he crawled back into bed and piled on the covers.

In about five minute's time, it became clear nothing was going to work and he barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited. He went back to bed and tried to sleep but the urge to be sick overwhelmed him again. That pattern repeated itself a few more times before he gave up and just stayed by the toilet.

Sitting on the tile floor beside the toilet shivering violently, he wrapped his arms around himself to try to stop shaking. His head still pounded and he barely had the energy to lean over for the next wave of vomiting though nothing came up but stomach acid. He was still coughing like crazy and between that and vomiting, his abdominal and chest muscles were really hurting; kind of like being on the losing end of a boxing match. His fever was high enough to make him hallucinate and he ejected his claws in response to some threat his mind manufactured but was so out of it, all he could do was stare at the blood and infectious ooze running down his arms before he blacked out.

Later the ringing of the phone brought him around but he was too weak to respond.

The phone was Susan calling to check on him. When he didn't pick up, she tried not to worry. After all, he was not the most phone- friendly person in the world.

Her day had been stressful. Flu, strep and a nasty stomach bug had School in its grip and clearly it was going to be a long siege. Her back hurt, she was beyond tired from interrupted and worrisome sleep. She tried to cut out early, but things conspired against it. Traffic was horrendous, the line at the grocery store was special and she wasn't moving very fast or efficiently. When she pulled into the driveway and noticed the door to his truck still open, three thoughts crossed her mind; first was, _what an idiot, leaving_ _the door to his new truck open_. The second was, _oh well, he's headed back out for_ _something; I just pulled in at the wrong time._ Lastly, _something is very wrong._


	22. Chapter 22

**Authors Note: I used part of a song lyric in this chapter; so I must give credit to Darrell Brown and Radney Foster as the original composers of Raining on Sunday; and Keith Urban's rendition of the song on his Golden Road album. If any of you CMT aficionados have seen the video; well you know what I'm talking about and will have no trouble putting it in context with L & S's relationship.**

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

Logan jolted back to reality by the sound of Susan's shriek when she found him slumped unconscious against the toilet. Blood pooled where his hands rested on the floor. Susan dashed for her medical kit she kept in her car. "Logan. Logan. Come on, Bright Eyes. Wake up." Struggling to keep her panic down, she placed the blood pressure cuff on him and pumped it up. He appeared acutely ill; deathly gray-white, bluish, dry and cracking lips, and an odd rash visible on his arms- definitely different from the hives he'd had the night before.

He opened blackened and glassy eyes just a slit. "Hey." he said weakly.

"You're scaring me, Bright Eyes" she said as she noted his unusually low blood pressure and rapid pulse.

Logan held up one bloody hand. "I ripped 'em." The effort of speaking set off another wave of painful dry heaves and coughing.

"It's ok. I can fix that late." she said and steadied him through his latest round of misery.

His respirations were shallow and rapid and he wheezed and grunted with each breath. Through her stethoscope, his breath sounded crackly and 'wet'. "Logan, what are you feeling?"

His head lolled back and forth.

"Logan! Stay with me" she commanded.

"The lights... hurt my eyes..." he mumbled and tried to bring his arm up to cover his eyes but he was too weak. The lights weren't on. It was only the last rays before sunset streaming into the window of the westward facing bathroom.

"Logan look at me" she commanded. She shone the pen light into his eyes. His pupils reacted slowly. "I want you to move your head up and down, like your nodding."

Logan tried in vain, wincing in pain with the effort. He heaved again and before he had the chance to lean over the toilet, blood spewed from his mouth fouling his clothing.

She helped him strip off his shirt and cleaned him up only to notice more rash on his chest and abdomen. _Dear God,_ she thought _he needs help fast_. She debated calling 911 and going to a hospital but quickly realized that the only option was the med-lab. A problem was getting him there; Xavier's School didn't have an ambulance.

She quickly located Logan's X-Team phone. Every team member carried one for missions and emergencies and this was a definite emergency. He'd showed her the various codes- just in case. She hit the X-Team version of 911.

The communication system was monitored twenty four/seven and Logan had done his share, Charles was on tonight. _Yes, Logan. What is it?_

"It's me, Susan. I need help. Logan's critically ill." She was fighting to keep raw panic out her voice.

_Where are you? _

"Our house. Charles I need someone to help me get him to the med-lab, stat."

_Understood. Shall I have Kurt teleport?_

"No! Definitely not. I don't think Logan can handle it."

_I'll send Hank and Victor"._

"Charles, have someone bring along the emergency kit from the jet." The kit contained life sustaining necessities like a respirator, IV, a portable defibrillator, and emergency meds, like epinephrine.

_Very well_.

Susan clicked off the phone and went back to his side. "I'm here Logan."

He opened his eyes and mumbled something she couldn't understand. Then he coughed hard and deep, red sputum filled his mouth. "I can't..." he gasped and choked "breathe."

She watched him struggle for breath, his chest retracting and nostrils flaring with the effort. She tried to sound comforting, "I know. Help's on the way. Hold on baby, please." She sat beside him and pulled him close, letting him lean on her. She wrapped his oozing, bleeding knuckles with some gauze she had grabbed from the closet. There was nothing else she could do for him until help arrived.

"Think I'm dyin'" he wheezed.

"No way" she answered forcefully. "Not on my watch you're not." Her words were brave but she had a small but not unfound fear that he could be right. "Just rest. Don't talk" she soothed.

More deep, rattling coughing erupted from him and blood oozed from his mouth and dribbled onto her blouse. She didn't care about the blouse, but the sound of the cough deeply worried her. What in the hell was going on with him? She could make some very educated guesses and none of them were very good. "Ssssh" she soothed and stroked his head. _Please get here_ she thought, referring to Hank and Vic.

It was only a few more minutes before they arrived. Susan heard the doorbell and hoped they'd just come in. Logan fainted leaning against her. She heard the door open and called out "I'm back here, in our room."

She extricated herself from him as Vic reached to steady him. Vic was a big man, as tall as Logan and if he hadn't had the metal bones, Vic would have significantly outweighed him. Logan didn't have the strength to move so Hank and Vic gently lifted him and hauled him to the SUV. He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a coughing fit. "I'm sorry, man" he choked trying to swallow back blood and mucous. He grimaced from sharp pain radiating through his chest with each breath he struggled to take. They loaded him into the back seat of the SUV and Susan and Hank sat on either side of him. Hank held an oxygen mask to his face while Susan kept a basin close by as he still vomited and coughed up blood. They raced back to the med-lab paying little attention the speed limits. They pulled Vic's SUV into an infrequently used drive way closest to the med-lab elevator. Electra was ready with a stretcher and Charles and Scott were standing by.

They rushed him to the med lab, taking note of his seriously ill countenance; he was struggling even more for each breath, his complexion appeared gray-blue and he was almost completely unresponsive to stimulus. Hank took rapid control of the situation. The first order was for pressurized oxygen. He took a listen to Logan's chest with a stethoscope; no breath sounds came from his left lung. Collapsed lung? Good possibility.

Getting an IV in place took a few tries. Logan had become dehydrated to the point of his veins collapsing.

Hank ordered a multitude of labs, a spinal tap, urine culture and chest X-ray. Susan and Electra set to work simultaneously performing the diagnostics as rapidly as possible. Hank did the spinal tap, as Logan was too heavy for the women to get him into the position for the procedure. They all glanced at each other with worry at the 'muddiness' of his spinal fluid. Obtaining a urine culture proved to be difficult. Logan's kidney's seemed to be shutting down; this very bad sign prompted more worried glances.

The chest x-ray confirmed the collapsed lung and a tremendous amount of fluid in both lungs. A chest tube to drain the gunk in his lungs became the next order of business.

An examination of Logan's knuckle wounds showed worsening infection. "Staph?" Susan said aloud

"At the very least." Hank answered. "I'm worried we've got multiple pathogens happening here."

"Electra, how fast can you spin me those cultures?" Hank snapped.

"Twenty minutes."

Hank nodded but wished it could be faster. He was just about to infuse a broad spectrum antibiotic into Logan's IV when Susan stopped him and told him about the hives from the night before. "We're going to have to risk it. Augment with IV Diphenhydramine. I've got to start him on something to begin to bring this infection under control. We can get more specific when we know what we're dealing with."

The labs came back. The spinal tap and blood work indicated Staphylococcus Aureus meningitis; rare and extremely deadly.

"Houston, we've got a problem." Hank sighed as the read the lab reports. "Susan, do we have Methicillin in our supplies?"

"No" she said flatly. "But, I'll get it."

"How are you going to manage that little trick?"

"Hank, have you ever heard of don't ask-don't tell?"

"I understand." Hank said with a nod. "Sue, you need to make it fast."

Susan eyes glistened with fear. "No kidding."

Susan rounded up Kurt. She needed him to pop into the pharmacy at Westchester Memorial. On the way to the hospital, they stopped by an ATM machine, where she withdrew a thousand dollars. She wasn't planning on stealing the medicine. She would pay in cash or at least leave the money behind.

She gave Kurt explicit directions on where he'd find the antibiotic and he smoked into the pharmacy, miraculously unseen, grabbed the needed drugs, left the cash and smoked back to her car parked in the underground garage. They sped back to the med lab.

With no way to fight infection, Logan was slowly shutting down. Blood gases indicated he wasn't getting enough oxygen and carbon dioxide levels were climbing with current respiratory support necessitating a switch to mechanical ventilation. His kidneys were failing and the med lab didn't have dialysis equipment. Another clandestine mission to 'rent' the needed equipment became necessary.

It took Herculean effort, but they managed to stabilize him though keeping him that way required frequent fine tuning of medications and interventions. After that there was nothing to be done but watch, wait and pray.

Susan took the first four hour shift at his side first to closely monitor his condition and to provide a human presence during his critical illness. She wanted to counterbalance the sounds of the machines keeping Logan alive; the incessant beeping of the cardiac monitor, the whoosh-click-hiss of the ventilator, periodic hum of the blood pressure monitors and the gurgles and bubbles of suction equipment, with her presence. She and Charles feared the ICU environment could trigger bad memories and unnecessary stress. So in addition to the round-the-clock watch shared by all they also induced a coma to keep Logan as unaware and pain free as possible. There was one tiny silver lining to his loss of powers; medications that normally never helped him did seem to help now.

She checked him over thoroughly and then sat by his side stoking his face and head. His skin felt dry and hot. He was deathly still; the only movement was the forced rise and fall of his chest from the ventilator. He looked pale and emaciated; his marvelous physique seemed to waste away as she sat there. There was dark blue-black bruising where various tubes invaded his body. Though she tended to him often, the stink of sickness permeated the entire room. She spoke to him tenderly and as upbeat as she could muster. "I'm here Bright Eyes. Things are looking ok. You're doing a great job. Keep hanging tough." She moved closer and murmured in his ear. "I love you so much." She didn't know if he heard or not but wanted to believe she was having a positive effect. There really wasn't much else that could be done.

At the end of four hours, Hank came to give Susan a much needed break, even though she protested.

"Come on Dr. Harris, I_ don't _need two patients on my hands. You've had precious little rest in the last twenty four hours."

She sighed deeply and nodded even though she didn't make a move to leave Logan's side.

Hank came to her side and gently nudged her up. "I promise I'll call if anything changes."

"Ok" she answered reluctantly. "I'll be in his old room."

"Good girl." Hank gave her a reassuring peck on the cheek. "He's a tough bird; he's going to be alright."

And that's how things went for the next twenty hours or so. When Hank was through with his shift, Electra came on, then Charles and finally back to Susan. No one slept much as there were many things to do among continuing to provide the intensive care Logan needed; keeping the School and students on track and everything else they were beholding too. Being busy was a good thing though; it kept the mind from dwelling too much on the negatives.

Another night came and Susan was trying to catch a few hours sleep before her turn came up again. A storm had blown in and cold wind- whipped rain pelted the windows where she slept. The twins were kicking up their own storm and she couldn't turn off her mind. Finally she gave up, wrapped herself in a bathrobe that Storm lent her and went down to the kitchen for a comfort snack. Standing in front of the freezer noshing on a half-gallon of vanilla ice-cream, she jumped when Scott who had watch, stuck his head in the door.

"Oh hey. I was wondering who was raiding the kitchen" he said quietly.

She grinned guiltily. "Just lil' ol' me. Couldn't sleep."

He nodded, switched on the light and took a seat at the counter.

"Want some?" She held the carton out.

"No thanks. How are things?"

"No change."

"I suppose that's good, in a way."

"It's one way to look at it" she replied.

"How are you holding up?"

She sagged and leaned against the counter. "All things considered, ok; I guess."

"Guess that's the best you can hope for."

She nodded and flashed a sad and weary smile. "I'm going to check on him. I'll see you later."

"Want me to come along?"

"You know I'd be glad if you could but we're trying to keep people away. He's got no resistance to anything."

"Didn't think of that. Well, let me know if there's anything I can do."

"I will." She hugged him. "Thanks."

She pattered down the dimly lit hallway and took the elevator down to the med-lab. Hank was sitting at Logan's side reading aloud from A Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.

She stood beside them and rested her hand on Hanks fury blue shoulder. "I don't know if he'd choose that for himself or not" she teased Hank about his choice of literature.

"I think he'd prefer it to Wuthering Heights."

She snickered. "You've got that right."

"What are you doing down here?" Hank asked in a parental tone.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Ah! Well, have a seat then. He'd probably prefer you over me anytime."

"Can't imagine why?" she joked then sat and unconsciously began to stroke Logan's hair.

She noticed something extraordinary. "Look at this Hank!"

He didn't immediately notice what she referred to. "What?"

"This gray, in his hair, right here in his sideburns; that wasn't there before."

Not only did the Mutant Flu cancel his healing and immunities; it now seemed to be aging him!

Hank looked momentarily flabbergasted and then worried. "This is a complication I didn't expect."

She nodded in agreement. "I think we're writing a whole new chapter in mutant medicine. I know this sounds callous, but I just wish the subject was somebody else."

"Not callous at all, good lady; simply human."

She motioned with a wave of her hand. "Why don't you take a break? I need to be here for a little while."

"Alright. I could use a bit of caffeine. Be back in a few."

Susan laid her head on an empty space on the bed, entwined her hand in his and spoke to him like he heard. "I'm here, darling. Guess I'm a little off schedule. How are you feeling? Never mind; stupid question. I can just guess the smart-assed answer you're thinking of. Everybody's been praying for you. You know, it's coming up on five days with this mess soon. With a little luck you should start to improve. Do me a favor, Bright Eyes, go with the five day version as opposed to seven, please."

She sighed and realized he probably didn't hear her. Medical science hadn't proved comatose patients heard or understood goings- on around them; of course they hadn't disproved it either so she continued to speak to him. "It storming like crazy tonight and it's awfully lonely with out you. I know what you like to do on stormy nights when it keeps us awake." She sat up and stroked his face and sang very quietly to him. _…pray that it's raining on Sunday, storming like crazy. We'll hide under the covers all afternoon. Baby whatever comes of Monday can take care of itself 'cause we've got better things that we can do….." _Suddenly emotion swept over her and instead of softly singing she began to softly weep.

Hank found her that way and immediately embraced her. "It's ok. Let it out. You've been extraordinarily brave."

She leaned into his embrace and soft weeping gave way to controlled sobs for a few minutes. Then she straightened, grateful for the moment to unbend but embarrassed just the same. "He hates tears."

"Well he can simply get over it" Hank answered with gentle levity having sensed her embarrassment. "Now off to rest with you; doctors orders, Dr. Harris."

Charles took over from Hank a few hours later. "How's the patient?" he inquired whirring into the room.

"No changes on the monitors. I'm about to draw some labs. Susan noticed something intriguing."

"Go on."

"Notice the graying in his hair and beard. Honestly Charles, I wouldn't have noticed; but…"

"I see. This is rather disconcerting. Do you think it's cause for alarm?"

"In this situation everything's cause for alarm—except full recovery of course."

"Agreed. If past clinical history is a guide; he should begin to turn the corner very soon."

"Five to _seven_ days. We could still have a bit of a stretch."

Charles felt mildly defeated at the thought of another forty eight hours. "Indeed."

Hank prepped Logan for blood draw. "Let's see what the numbers say." He quickly siphoned two vials and left Charles to monitor the patient.

As Charles stood his shifts he would telepathically communicate with Logan. When he had been stricken with the altered Cerebro many months ago, Jean had done the same for him and he was convinced it made a significant difference in his recovery. As a psychiatrist, he'd undergone medical training but with his telepathic powers he was more suited to assessing Logan's mental and emotional capacity to hang on and fight the virus. Mentally so far, Logan continued to fight the good fight and had an understanding of what was going on.

Hours passed and Charles began to notice a significant increase in bruising all over Logan's body. Blood seeped from the chest tube and IV site. The urine collection bag was filled with blood and there was bright red blood coming through and seeping around the nasogastric tube. Charles scanned the monitoring equipment and noted his blood pressure was dropping at an alarming rate and his heart rate was becoming more rapid and erratic. The only stable vital sign was respirations and that was controlled mechanically. Realizing the signs of Multiple System Organ Failure, Charles called for assistance, all the while trying to keep in increasingly weakening mind link to Logan.

**Logan, stay with me **Charles thought to him

He didn't respond right away. Finally in broken impulses, Logan thought back_**Hurts. . . .bad. So . . .tired**. _There was another long pause. Charles could feel Logan trying to make his mind work. **_Tell . . . Sue_ . . . _love . . . her._**

**Tell her yourse-----**Charles telepathic words were suddenly cut off by the shrill alarm of the cardiac monitor!


	23. Chapter 23

**Authors Note: I owe a lot of credit to a lot of people on this chapter. First my husband who came up with the guts of how this section went and wrote a significant chunk of it. Next Rhiannon UK who read it over and gave some suggestions to flesh it out and then to my daughter who did the final read over and found some of those stupid little type-os and left out words. THANK YOU. **

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

The sound of the shrieking monitor sent anyone within range into instant action. Electra working in another room nearby sprung from her work station and raced back to the lab where Logan lay. Charles sent a frantic, loud telepathic message to Susan, who was sleeping in Logan's old suite, **'Susan, get down here now'. **

In the next instant Charles summoned all the physical strength he could muster and crashed his tightly fisted hands into the center of Logan's chest! The thump to his sternum registered on the monitor but failed to correct the haphazard squiggle on the monitor screen or silence the warning claxon.

So powerful was Charles telepathic message, that all of the adults and even some of the older teens on campus sensed it. In addition to Susan and Hank; Scott, Kurt, Vic, Storm, Marie and Bobby all heeded the psychic order. Suddenly there was a mutant traffic jam at the elevator leading to the med lab. As they rode the elevator down in silence; they seemed to share a common sense of dread. Their fears were powerfully reinforced when the elevator doors opened at the lower level. The squeal of the cardiac monitor buffeting their ears could not be missed.

Meanwhile, Charles and Electra set to work and in less than a minute they had Logan off the ventilator and manually 'bagged' for respiratory support and then Electra placed her hands on Logan's chest about to use her power and jolt his heart.

Charles shouted, "No! Metal bones, remember."

Electra backed away quickly. "Ay yi! Mi Dios!" then immediately began chest compressions.

Susan and Hank bulldozed through the throng of students and Team mates. Susan took one look at the prostrate form of her husband and paled. No amount of professional training was going to get her through this. Hank noticed the look on her face and countenance, grabbed her as she swayed and smoothly deposited her in a chair. Quickly and efficiently Hank took note of several things at once, none of which were particularly promising, and relieved Electra. Her arm strength was woefully inadequate in performing effective chest compressions on Logan.

Vic, Kurt and Storm took note of Susan's state and gathered around her as Scott took charge of the clearly frightened students.

With Hank performing chest compressions, Electra could focus on providing oxygen which left Charles free to attempt re-establishing the mind link to Logan.

**Logan! **

No response.

**Logan!**

Mental static.

"Come on big guy" Hank huffed as he compressed Logan's chest. He glanced at the monitor, noting the distinct tracings of ventricular fibrillation. "Damn" he muttered.

"Storm, get over here, bag him. Electra I want a bolus of epi- no, make it vasopression-STAT!"

In seconds Hanks orders had been carried out and it only took just a few more seconds to see that it didn't work. Continuing with chest compressions, Hanks arms ached and he sweated buckets. "Dammit Wolverine, give me a sign here." There was none; even Hank didn't have the power to effectively compress Logan's adamantium-clad sternum. "Electra, try amiodarone, NOW"

Susan made a move to comply with Hanks order. He glanced at her in surprise and concern. "I can't just sit here" she offered then injected the medication into Logan's IV line. Hank nodded, though looked away from her; not wishing she see the unease in his eyes but also forcing himself to ignore the pale mask of fear on her face. A second patient was the last thing he needed and there was no time to debate her level of fitness.

Charles, filtering the distracting noises and activity around him, continued trying to 'find' Logan. The professor's concentration was rewarded when he heard a very faint thought.

"Hurts bad….make stop"

Charles felt Logan trying to emphasize the last word but the thoughts were weak, very weak. **What? Logan what are you saying? **A wave of mental static was the only reply.

"We're getting nowhere" Hank's voice reflected ardent frustration. "Bolus of Mag. Sulfate, now." It took only moments for Hank to be painfully aware that the last drug in his arsenal clearly failed. Suddenly aware of the audience that had gathered he bellowed "Get those kids outta here!"

Scott immediately began ushering the protesting kids out.

Marie protested the loudest. "I wanna stay, please Scott. Ya' know I can handle it. I've got him in my head."

Scott shot her a scrutinizing glance and then nodded. "But stay in the ante-room" he instructed just as he disappeared into the elevator.

Meanwhile, Hank rapidly debated the few remaining options. With indirect electrical stimulation out of the question, there was only one other long shot remaining. At this point, everything he knew about medicine; both Normal and Mutant; told him it was probably moot; but he owed Logan the effort. "Electra, scalpel please."

Susan gasped, aware of what Hank might have in mind. She'd not undergone rigorous shock-trauma training for naught.

Electra glanced at him in surprise, unsure of his intent.

Her hesitation and Susan's reaction added to Hanks frustration and stress and he took it out on Electra. "Did you hear me? Scalpel stat!"

"It's not a sterile field" she reminded Hank as she handed over the instrument.

"Least of my worries right now" he answered a bit more gently, as if trying to convey his verbal roughness was in no way meant as a personal attack against Electra. "Storm, cease for a moment." Hank placed the scalpel against Logan's sternum and cleanly sliced.

Susan gripped the edge of the stretcher and swayed.

"Kurt, get her away" Hank demanded quickly. "Susan, I'm sorry."

She didn't faint; but went completely white faced. She weakly nodded acceptance as Kurt lead her back to a chair all the while cursing her own weakness and the fact she'd ignored a 'doctor rule'; you don't treat a critically ill or injured close relative. In a few moments she composed herself to some extent and was not in danger of a flat-out faint. She took Kurt's clawed hand and redoubled their prayers more than fully aware of the heroic, last ditch effort Hank was attempting.

Marie stood in the ante-room, faced pressed against the glass. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she struggled to choke off the sound of her sobs. Come on Logan. Ya cain't be doin' this, she silently begged. Somebody fix him, she demanded with her mind. Just then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She started for a moment.

"You ok?" It was Scott.

Marie turned and then buried her face in his chest.

"This is our last chance. Electra can you get your fingers directly on his heart without touching metal?"

Electra looked momentarily panicked but nodded and moved into position. With deliberate care; summoning all the courage she had within her; she worked her small hand between peeled back skin and muscle. Then as quickly as she could snaked her hand between organs and made contact with Logan's quivering heart muscle. As she worked, Hank steadily fed her guidance; where to touch, how much pressure to exert; how quickly to compress all the while silently praying the open-chest cardio massage would work.

Even in his nearly clinically dead state, Logan felt what was happening yet somehow deep within his wasted body, wracked with pain, and being surgically 'assaulted' once again, he managed to muster the strength to clearly enunciate a thought back to Charles.

"Do you trust me completely?"

Charles flinched in recognition of Logan's echo of his words from a couple of weeks before. **Yes, I trust you Logan. What are you saying?**

There was a pause before Logan pleaded his thoughts, strong yet fragmented, "Stop… Gotta…shut….down."

Hank studied the monitor again, hoping for a positive change; but Electra's efforts showed none. "Are you clear of the metal bone structure?"

She whispered "yes."

"Give him 150 volts."

"I'm not that accurate, Hank"

"Do your best."

"Clear" she said, uncertainty tainted her tone.

Charles thought hard about Logan's last message. The monitors kept screaming, Hank and Electra continued their efforts and he could feel Logan's thoughts weaken with each jolt; he could feel Logan shutting down. **My God,** he thought, **shut down! I understand Logan**, he thought back but there was no reply; not even mental static.

Wanting to trust Logan's instincts yet deeply uncertain Charles made the difficult decision. Taking a deep breath, he quietly said aloud "It's time to stop."

They flinched and froze at his words, but he simply nodded his head toward the monitor with its shrill alarm and now flat line.

"Susan cried out "No! Oh God no."

Charles continued "Hank, it's been over twenty minutes; is there any hope?"

Silently he shook his head and stepped away from Logan's body. Hank turned and stumbled back to the chair next to Susan, his expression a mask of disbelief and grief. Aided by Kurt she struggled to her feet, tears streaming down her face. Three of them collapsed into a hug, soundlessly crying. They felt Electra and Storm come up and expanded the circle. Marie and Scott feeling even more helpless and out of place, quietly came into the room. Charles heard their unvoiced question and simply shook his head no after which they joined the outer perimeter of the group hug.

Unobtrusively as possible Charles shut off the monitor, rolled close to his Team and then cleared his throat. They loosened their grip on one another uncertain of what to do next.

The realization of what had just happened would not sink in. Logan, the Wolverine, was supposed to be invincible! Even when Marie had drained his powers, first in self-preservation and finally because the healing had been given willingly, Logan had lived.

Susan, in shock but pulling every ounce of strength and grace she had within; stood, walked to her husband's body and urged everyone to leave her. "I'd like to be alone with him please."

They protested. They were a team and they wanted to deal with this as a team. Marie, who had a special connection to Logan, especially objected.

Susan's voice was even, strong, but kind. "I_ need_ to care for him. Please leave us."

Charles surfed her mind and caught her meaning. He quietly urged everyone away. Kurt, Storm and Scott gave her a quick embrace. Electra gave her another quick hug and whispered in her ear "I'll be in the lab across the hall if you need me." Hank, feeling like he'd failed one of the biggest challenges in his life simply shook his head muttered "I'm so sorry" and disappeared to his quarters.

Marie was frozen in place. Scott doubled back to gently take her by the arm but she shrugged him off. "He can't be dead. Logan doesn't die. He promised he'd always be there--to take care of me."

"Marie, come along." Charles said to the grieving irrational teen.

"No, I won't leave him."

Sensing a scene coming on from Marie, Charles used a mind control technique to force the girl's compliance. Trance-like Marie slowly trudged from the med-lab and then collapsed sobbing in Storm and Electra's waiting arms.

Charles rolled out in silence but sent **I'm not far if you need anything** to Susan's mind.

"Thank you" she spoke in return and did not notice Charles stop and turn around to listen into the lab from just outside her range of vision.

In the now empty and silent med lab, Susan began to unhook Logan from all the invasive monitoring and life support equipment. She knew he would loathe it if he'd been aware.

Beginning with the incision in the center of his chest, she deftly pushed the edges of flesh together and secured them with surgical tape. Next came the EKG leads and she couldn't help but notice the few gray hairs sprinkled over his chest. He looked pale and wasted which contrasted starkly with the deep bruises from internal bleeding. Carefully, almost like she was afraid of causing damage, removed the endotracheal tube protruding from his slack mouth. She almost laughed out loud at herself for her pointless caution. She pulled the last of the IV's from his arms and let them clatter to the floor.

Susan pulled the chair next to his body and sat heavily down. She clasped his chilled hand in hers and stroked his wavy, dark hair with her other hand. "Oh, my love" she whispered. Her tears began to flow. "Logan. Don't go away. I need you so. I love you." Her tone took a sound of desperation. "Please, dear God" she began to pray. "I need him. Our children need him." She sobbed deeply, laying her head upon his still chest.

She startled when his body seemed to twitch but realized that was not necessary abnormal upon death, before rigor mortis set in. She pulled back from him, stood, and then gathered up sponges and alcohol to clean him up. Every part of her knew how useless the gesture was, but she needed to make sure the job was done thoroughly. She went back to his side and began wiping away droplets of blood from the IV sites. Lifting his arm, she noticed there was no sign of the puncture and thought it was her imagination but the bruising seemed less than a few moments ago.

Out in the corridor, Charles sat in silence. He dared not even think about Logan's last thoughts to him; instead he focused on Susan. He wondered how much longer he should wait before mentally checking on her. Since he respected her privacy, he was simply listening with his ears in case she needed any help. He heard her cries of sorrow which he expected. He was starting to worry about the extended silence and decided to open his mind and simply listen passively just to make sure. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes to open his mind though, he snapped them back open with a start.

Inside the lab Susan's grief gave way to puzzlement and anger. "What the hell? You can't do this to me" she said a little too loudly. She leaned closer to his body. "I know all about bodily functions that continue," she choked back another sob, "that continue after death. Like some stupid….like that stupid Eveready Bunny." The last words came out as choked laughter. "Just hanging on at some cellular level, is it?"

She felt the twins flutter in her belly. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him with all her strength. "You can't leave me. You can't leave your babies. Not now. Bright Eyes, please." Her knees buckled, her sobs renewed as she bent over his body.

After a few moments she stepped back, wiped the tears with the sleeve of her lab coat and wondered what to do next, Her emotions vacillated wildly among grief and despair, denial and anger; even an odd touch of black humor. She looked at the bloody bandages around his hands. "Ok, I'm not messing with those without gloving." She didn't realize she was speaking loud enough for Charles to hear in the corridor and for Electra, hovering in the doorway of her lab not far beyond Charles. Electra looked at Charles, but he simply held up his hand and shook his head. He didn't want anyone to interfere with Susan right now. Electra smiled sadly and even though she didn't understand she pretended to go back to her work.

Susan gloved and searched for the scissors to cut away the bandages. Returning to his side she lifted his wrist which was limp; not stiffened as she'd expected and his body seemed to twitch again. She jumped and then chastised her imagination. "This why I never went into forensics" she said aloud. Steeling her nerves, she cut away the bandage on one hand and peeled in back. She almost screamed at the sight---the pus was gone! She lifted his hand up into the lights above the table and examined it thoroughly. Not only was there no sign of infection, but the wounds had closed themselves. She stared in disbelief at the pink, healthy flesh between his knuckles.

She dropped his arm and turned back to re-examine his body. The bruising _was_ fading and the incision Hank had made an hour ago, if that long, had closed and only a red line marked the spot. Ok, it might not have been her imagination, something was clearly still happening on a cellular level within in his body. She didn't understand what it was and had no will to perform autopsy, though it was warranted. While someday she may have the stomach to study and understand the less obvious why's of the virus and what it had done to him, she couldn't just now.

She began to doubt her sanity when she thought she saw his chest rise. For a brief second, she dared to hope for the impossible, for a miracle but the stark, ugly reality came back stronger. The man she loved was dead and there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it. Any remaining resiliency drained away from her and she could only sit by his body and cry.

As time ticked by Charles began to feel less certain of the decision he'd made. While no clue had been given on what to expect; he expected _something_ by now. What if he'd misinterpreted what Logan had tried to convey. Those last few moments before he declared Logan 'dead' he'd sensed no activity in his mind and he still couldn't detect anything. An electro-encephalogram would probably indicate brain death at this point. But the brain, the mind and finally the spirit occupy different planes. He sent a message to Susan's mind.

"Go away" she both thought and choked out between sobs.

Logan's body twitched yet again and then suddenly, violently, he gasped. His chest had risen! He breathed!

Susan shouted in shock and joy. She grabbed her stethoscope and pressed it to his chest. She heard a heartbeat. Not terribly strong, but beating just the same. "Charles, Hank, anybody!" she yelled.

The doors to the med lab burst open as Charles and Electra nearly ran each other down trying to get there first.

"He's not gone" Susan cried.

There was no doubt, he was breathing. They took turns at the stethoscope, hearing his faint but steady heart beat. In a short few moments, Hank, who had been called by a telepathic summons by Charles, joined them quickly followed by the other Team members.

A sense of euphoria, a miracle, beating impossible odds was palpable. Just as quickly, the realization of what would be left of Logan, who had been clinically dead for more than an hour, soured the positive mood. No one dared voice the concern. They'd just seen one miracle. Let's keep the faith, the positive, and give Logan's healing abilities the chance.

A moment later, at the end of her own physical and emotional rope, Susan slowly sunk in an exhausted faint ending up surprisingly in Charles lap! Fortuitously, he had positioned himself directly behind her. She came-too quickly and when she realized her awkward position; flushed bright red with embarrassment but he simply smiled, "I haven't been in a position to help a lady like that in years."

She didn't know what to say. She got slowly back to her feet and moved closer to Logan. He was breathing steadily and the EKG that had been reattached showed a healthy heart rate and all traces of wounds and bruises had completely disappeared. "Do you have any idea what just happened here?" she asked Charles mostly. The question was on every one's mind and there were nods acknowledging the fact.

Charles sighed and swallowed, trying to find the words to explain what he still wasn't completely certain of himself. "Logan told me to make it stop; the interventions, that is. He said he needed to shut down completely. He used a phrase I used with him before when he and I spent that day working on his memory integration problems."

Susan looked puzzled. Logan had still not told her all the details of his meltdown and therapy with Charles.

Charles continued. "He used a certain phrase to jog my memory, repeated my own words because he needed to find a way to tell me he knew he could heal himself and we were preventing him from doing so." Charles paused and looked Susan in the eye. "I suspected as much, but dared not express it. What if I had been wrong? What if I had told you after everything we'd done he was going to be all right simply because Logan thought so and then he really did die?"

Susan gave him a slow smile and nodded in understanding. Fresh tears of joy fell down her cheeks.

Charles turned away from her and addressed Logan's unconscious form lying on the bed. He touched his temple transmitting his thought and also spoke out loud. "I don't know how you knew Logan, but please forgive us all the pain we ignorantly but well intentionedly put you through." He received a weak but intelligible 'It's ok' from Logan's mind.

It wasn't much longer before Logan's eyelids fluttered and his head lolled from side to side as he moaned. It seemed like every cell in his body screamed in pain. He could hear a constant, sharp blip-blip-blip and then a low hum and then felt pressure on his bicep but somehow couldn't get a bearing on where he was and what was happening. Cold, creeping panic seeped into his mind and he could feel a surge of adrenalin. The blip, blip, blip increased in pace.

He heard voices from what seemed like miles away. _Our boy's coming around._

_Yes, and I don't like the numbers I'm seeing on the monitor. _

_Give him a chance, Hank._ That voice; familiar, safe---Susan! Something warm and soft touched his face. "Logan. Easy does it. Come on, open your eyes."

He opened his eyes. Everything was gray black. "Hey" he struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper. His throat was parched and raw from the ventilator and he swallowed hard.

"Sum'ns wrong! 's dark" he slurred weakly. He tried to raise his hand to make contact with anything, grimacing at the effort it took.

Susan smoothed her hands over his face and hair. She glanced at Hank in deep concern. The lights were on full. She clasped the hand that he tried to raise and gently squeezed. "I'm right here, Logan; so is Hank."

Raw panic crossed his face. "Can't see! Whas goin' on?"

"Ssshh. It's going to be ok, Bright Eyes." She glanced pleadingly at Hank for some sort of an explanation to Logan's apparent vision loss.

Beast's answer was gentle yet guarded. "Logan, your senses aren't all back yet. You've been through bad one."

He barely shook his head. "Wha' happen?" he asked, speech still slurred.

Susan asked gently, "What do you remember?"

He exhaled deeply, trying to focus on the last thing he remembered. "Was home…." His voice came out stronger but raspy and thick. The struggle to remember was written clearly on his face. "…..really sick…." He just shook his head. It was too much effort for now.

"It doesn't matter, Bright Eyes. You're ok now."

He nodded and sighed deeply. Completely exhausted he needed to fall into that healing sleep of his. He closed his eyes and murmured "Gotta slee…"

Susan smiled, understanding; then bent to gently kiss his lips. "I know. I'll be here." She pulled the bed sheet and blanket up and tucked him in like she would do a most precious child. He drifted off into a convalescing coma.

Twenty some hours later Logan emerged from his healing sleep. He could see and as far as he could tell lying there, felt completely normal. He expected Susan to be right there and was just a bit put off when Hank was the first person he saw. Good naturedly he said "Man, wakin' up to someone ugly as you'd put a guy right back into cardiac arrest." His voice was stronger.

"Ahh, the affirmations of a true friend" Hank replied. "In case you haven't looked in the mirror recently old buddy,_ enticing_ isn't an adjective that suits you at the moment."

"Probably not" Logan agreed. "By the way where is Susan?"

"Hopefully asleep in your old room. The past week was a bit much for her."

Logan sat up and stretched. "Yeah, I guess so. She ok?"

"She's fine now."

Logan sighed with relief. "Has it really been a week?"

"Indeed. Do you remember anything?"

"Bits and pieces. Kinda like a dream, ya know. Charles spent a lotta time in my head."

Hank nodded."Give me about fifteen minutes to check you over, and I'll let you go."

"Don't need any checkin over." Logan groused. "I'm ok."

"Yeah, yeah; well, I've got to do it anyway. Give me a break and let me do my job."

Logan grudgingly cooperated. "Bad, wasn't it?"

Hank nodded and looked deeply into his friend and colleague's questioning gaze. "After you're fully recovered I'll tell you about it over a beer. Now listen up, Logan" he said firmly "I want you to take it slow and easy for a couple of days…."

"Why? I'm fine."

"You are unyieldingly insensible at times, you know that Wolverine? Knowing _you_ it won't be a problem, but after most people have gone through what you have, it takes a bit of time to completely recover."

"Hey, you calling me a jack-ass?"

Hank grinned "If the shoe fits, my friend."

"Whatever." Logan hopped off the bed and his legs promptly buckled.

Hank caught and steadied him. "As I said… I want you to take it easy for the rest of the week. Come back Friday morning and I might just let you back on duty."

Logan nodded, humbled but still impatient to distance himself from the med-lab. "Can I have my clothes and go now?"

"Yeah. Gather up your wife and get out of my clinic" Hank said with mock irritation and tossed Logan his clothes. "One more thing" he added.

"What?" Logan questioned loudly.

"Take a shower first."

Logan gave Hank a funny look and then gave himself a sniff check. "Oh! Right."

Hank didn't think to mention to Logan about the physical deterioration and aging that took place over the past several days. Logan stared into the mirror, completely astonished by the pale and distinctly thinner reflection staring back. He _had_ changed.

Hank figured out that little oversight when he heard Logan's loud and rude reaction from behind the bathroom door. He knew he should be professional and kind about the whole thing, but he could be just as ornery and insensitive as Logan. Instead of some compassionate, reassuring comment, he mentioned to Logan that he'd be glad to share his Grecian Formula.

Logan responded with a snarly "Go to hell!" He definitely noticed the graying. There really wasn't that much at all, just a bit at his temples and a few light streaks through his hair and a slight speckling in his beard. Instead of looking like an early thirty- something, he looked more like a late thirty- something. He still didn't look anywhere near is actual age. He wasn't going to admit to himself that there could be just a little bit of vanity going on. No way!

"Hank, get me a razor." Logan said through the door.

"What for?"

"Cause I'm gonna slit my throat" he replied sarcastically.

"Saved your posterior from that a few weeks back and I'm not anxious to repeat the experience" Hank asserted.

"Just need to shave; ain't gonna do anything stupid." He grimaced at his own reflection again. Ok, there was some vanity going on! He reasoned he could shave and get rid of the gray flecks in the beard, which to him seemed more prominent and bothersome than the few strands in his hair.

While Logan was tending to himself, Hank called Susan to let her know that he was up and ready to go home. He told her about Logan's reaction to the aging and apologized to her for not handling it better.

Susan made her way to the med lab and got a full briefing from Hank and a lecture about continuing to take care of herself ."Ok, Dr. Harris, I'm turning him over to you. Quite frankly, I'm pretty worn out myself. See you two on Friday."

"Thanks for everything" she said and gave the huge blue mutant a hug. "You know Hank; I seem to be bestowing gratitude on you a lot in the last few months."

"Comes with baby- sitting these super-hero types. You want me to bill you?"

"Not particularly. But can I take you to dinner?"

"Without you know who?" Hank responded suggestively.

"Of course," she answered and then countered, "In your dreams big boy!" They had grown to be such good friends and the heavy duty flirting was understood to be all in fun. Even Logan knew that.

After a while Logan emerged as cleanly shaven as he'd been right after he'd had his bike wreck a couple months ago. He wasn't expecting Susan, as evidenced by the rather rude comment he was going to direct at Hank, coming out of the bathroom but sensed her and cut his comment off real fast. "……Uhh. Oh, Susie! Hey darlin'" he spluttered.

"I'm glad to know you're the same diplomatic, genteel man I love" she laughed.

He looked all around, scratched his scalp, pretending to search for whomever she was referring to. Diplomatic? Genteel? Nobody nearby, save for the beautiful blond standing in front of him, matched that description.

"You ready to get out of here, Bright Eyes?"

"Absolutely. Let's go out through the back. I'm not in the mood to run into everybody."

"There's going to be a bunch of disappointed people up there. They just want to make sure you're ok." Susan told him.

"Well….." Logan wasn't quite sure how to express why he didn't want to see everybody just right now. "I'm just not into it right now. Maybe I need to hibernate some more" he added.

Susan thought she knew where he was coming from. His outward appearance probably was bothering him. She wasn't exactly sure whether it was ego and pride or just coping with a real taste of mortality that was eating at him; probably all of it. She moved closer to him and touched his face with that gesture of hers that conveyed so many things in so many instances. "Whatever makes you comfortable."

He smiled at her, grateful for the way she understood him. He leaned toward her and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thanks." Arm in arm, she supporting him more than he wanted to admit, they slipped away from Xavier's med-lab and drove home.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Been a while so I better do it. Marvel owns Logan and the X-Men; I'm not making a penny but I am getting tons of personal satisfaction and having oodles of fun. **

**  
Authors notes: Ok, it's time to make life a bit easier for our hero. I'm truly appreciating all the feedback I get and I don't mind criticism either. Again I must give lots of credit and appreciation to my spouse, my daughter and Rhiannon UK. Believe it or not this story is in the wind-down phase; probably only a hundred more pages. **

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Later that evening, finally back home, Susan was tidying up the kitchen from supper and glanced across the kitchen into the family room. There was Logan, still looking wan and weary, lounging on the couch pretending to watch TV. Earlier, when they first returned home, he seemed uncharacteristically euphoric; then as the afternoon and evening progressed he seemed to descend into some sort of gloom. Now she noticed he simply seemed to stare into space. If she could engage him in any type of interaction his attention span lasted about a minute at most. All things considered though, his behavior was to be expected she reminded herself.

Then she began thinking about the past few days and how she'd lost him and then his miraculous recovery. She felt momentarily weak and a chill ran up her spine. Suddenly she just had to touch him; remind herself that he really was sitting right across the room from her. She tossed the dishtowel down on the counter and strode over to the couch, stood behind him, draped her arms around his neck and nuzzled the top of his head. She'd been trying all evening to push her emotions down knowing it made him uncomfortable. One of the twins gave her a sharp little kick and she just couldn't hold back any more. She trembled slightly, fighting, but a few salty tears spilled from her eyes into his dark, wavy hair.

He sighed and relaxed deeper into the couch in response her touch. It only took another moment for him to sense her emotion and smell her salty tears. "Hey!" he said turning to face her. "What's a matter, Susie?"

She pressed her forehead into the top of his head "I just started to think about what almost happened…. No, what did happen… and…." Her voice was uneven and unnaturally pitched.

"Sssh. Come over here." he motioned her to come around and sit with him.

She held onto his hand as she moved around the couch, sat in his lap and accepted his embrace. The floodgates burst and she sobbed into his chest. "Oh, Logan…you died. Then…you didn't…or you came back. I don't even know…You scared me… I love you so much….I need you…."

"Hey, hey. It's ok. I'm fine and I'm not planning on going anywhere. Not for a long time." He held her tightly and pressed gentle kisses in her hair.

Through tears she demanded "Don't you_ ever_ do that again." The absurdity of what she said struck them funny at the same moment and they chuckled.

"I promise I'm not planning on it" he countered.

"You know what I mean."

Somberly he replied "Yeah, I do. He held her and didn't speak for a long while but had a look of concentration on his face, as if trying to gather and organize something important in his mind. "I scared the hell out of myself. I don't even know how to describe it."

"Scared the hell out of everybody else, too" she reminded him.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, struggling with his thoughts. "When I…. when my heart quit, it was like…. I knew it was happening."

She gasped "you were aware?"

He nodded. "I could see---Jesus, it was like watching a movie, I'm not kidding. They were forcing air into me; thought my lungs were gonna split open. Then Hank cut me; filleted me open like some fuckin' fish." He shuddered. "You don't know how much that hurt."

"Oh God, Logan" she whimpered.

"When Electra touched my heart; what the hell _did_ she do?" He searched her face for the explanation. "It was almost as bad…as bad as when they bonded my bones….I couldn't go through that again- not when it wasn't gonna help. And then Charles was trying to keep that mind link--- but everything hurt and I was so damned tired. He paused, struggling for the words to make himself understood. "Then, I could see all the pain I was putting you through and I wanted to come back and; …" now he choked up. "God I don't know how to describe this; I needed to make him understand…"

"Him? Who?" She was having troubling following his broken line of words.

"Charles. I had to make him understand; I needed everybody to just let me be."

"What are you saying, Bright Eyes?"

He shook his head, unable to adequately verbalize his gut knowledge of how he survives.

"When Charles declared you dead you _told_ him to do that?"

He nodded.

"What if you'd been wrong?"

"No babe, you gotta understand. I _know_ how to survive. There wasn't any help when I made it through having my bones bonded. When some asshole caught me by surprise once and damn near gutted me I knew how to fix it?"

Susan looked shocked almost like she was about to be sick. "What did you do?" she whispered.

"Just curl up somewhere and shut down.

She responded with a questioning look.

"People been tryin to kill me and I even tried to kill myself more than once. This ain't the first time my ticker's quit. I just got an instinct I guess." He got a far away look on his face then mumbled "I got an animal's instinct to survive."

"How much were you aware of; besides what Hank and everybody did to restart your heart?"

"Last thing was Electra shockin' me; then wakin' up today."

"You don't remember the first time?"

He looked puzzled. "Nuh, uh."

Susan took a deep breath and explained "You'd been clinically dead for more than an hour. I'd disconnected everything." She fumbled with her thoughts. "There's no medical precedence; Logan, whatever happened can only be classified as a miracle, at least in my humble opinion. Mutation or not; you were dead and then you were alive!" She put her hand gently to the side of his face. "Then we were all so afraid of you having some permanent damage after being deprived of oxygen for so long. Nobody really knows the limits of your healing, do they?"

"I think this is the farthest I've pushed it."

"When you first woke up you couldn't see. Don't you remember that?"

Logan shook his head. He didn't remember. "I couldn't see?"

"No, I think you actually did suffer some brain damage but we spoke for a few minutes and then you said you needed to sleep. Twenty hours later you woke up and seemed completely normal."

"Don't tell anybody, but I'm not a hundred percent" he admitted. "I wouldn't want to have to go out and save the world tonight."

She smiled grateful for a bit of levity. "Well, if your super-hero hotline rings, I'll tell them you're otherwise occupied."

He snorted at that. He really hated the super hero b.s.

They were both quiet for a few moments and then she asked soberly "Have you really tried to kill yourself?"

He nodded and his voice was rough with emotion. "There was a time, not even that long ago that I abused the shit outta myself. Ever since I got my powers I've tried every form of suicide."

"Bright Eyes! Why?"

"When they came on, you know when I ---killed Tom---I'd sneak off and practice ejecting my claws then I'd cut myself just to watch it heal up. Never told ya this but Creed saved my ass more than once."

She looked surprised.

"First time I'd just arrived at Fort Saskatchewan."

"Victor Creed was there?"

He nodded, "I got kinda roughed up and took a razor blade and slashed…" he pointed to his wrist, neck and groin.

"For getting roughed up? There's something you're not saying."

He looked pained and then very quietly admitted "I got gang-raped."

She gasped "Oh my God! Creed?"

"No, no! He found me in the lavatory, bleedin'- out and stayed with me; stopped the bleedin' I guess. Parts of it I still can't remember."

"Logan" she said gently "you don't have to tell me any more."

He pursed his mouth in a tight lipped sad smile. "Thanks." Then he continued in a low firm voice "I finally stopped wantin' to die when I settled here. Then I met you… when I started to love you…." words failed him. Instead, he opted for a more basic form of communication and kissed her tenderly. "I love you Susan and sure as hell don't want to die anytime soon" he admitted, voice thick with emotion.

"You better not. I was planning on a good fifty or sixty years with you" she informed him forcing a lighter tone of voice. "long enough for you to get sick of me."

"Nah, that's just enough time to get ya broken in right" he replied picking up her levity. Then he leaned back into the sofa and sighed, weariness evident in his face and posture.

"Time to give it up old man" she gently prodded and took him by the hand. "Come on, I'm tuckin' you in."

He nodded, rose and followed her. He had just enough strength to love her gently before falling into a rare dreamless and deeply restful sleep.

Susan's alarm clock went off at the usual seven that Sunday morning and she was surprised to discover that Logan was not asleep beside her. She emerged from their room, looking sleepy and puzzled and was treated to the aroma of cinnamon rolls and coffee. That lovely scent did not bother her stomach in the least.

"Good mornin' Beautiful" Logan said as she wandered in.

She smiled and accepted the mug he offered. "It_ is_ a good morning. Whatcha doing up so early on a Sunday?"

"Couldn't sleep anymore and I'm _hungry_."

She nodded. "I didn't know you made cinnamon whatever- it- is you're making?"

"Cinnamon rolls, and I don't. But, the Pillsbury dough boy does." He grinned.

"Oh well, then; your secret's safe with me."

"Appreciate it, darlin'." He pulled the tray of rolls out of the toaster oven. "You wanna ice 'em while I scramble some eggs?"

The two set about the task of finishing breakfast preparations and then ate while sharing tidbits of the Sunday newspaper with each other. As he reached for a fourth cinnamon roll Susan glanced over the newspaper. "Take it easy hon! This isn't your last meal."

"I'm starvin'. Healing revs up my metabolism."

"I know, but remember what Hank said."

"What's he know?"

She chuckled. "Ok, but I really don't want to hear you b-m and c when your breakfast comes back."

"Not gonna happen" he said with confidence. A second later as he was about to take a bite the memory of just how sick he had been flashed and he very subtly put the roll down and decided the newspaper required more concentration. She secretly smiled behind her newspaper.

Susan glanced at the time "Crud, I've got to hurry!" and jumped up from the table. Logan cleared the table, put the dishes in the sink and followed her. As she showered, he brushed his teeth. "Don't take so long. I need a quick shower, too."

"What?" She didn't quite hear what he said over the sound of the shower.

"Hurry up. I need a shower if I'm goin' with you."

"You're coming with?" she paused from washing her hair, completely surprised at this turn of events.

"Yeah, but Susie, don't go readin' a lot into this; I mean….." Logan sighed, not really sure what he meant. "I'm really not into the whole organized religion thing. Just feel like being with ya today. Ok?"

"Absolutely, Bright Eyes. I'll be through in a sec."

He put the toothbrush handle back in the charger and reached for his razor. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he stopped in mid- motion and then leaned closer to examine the stubble that had grown back over night. "Shit" he muttered none too quietly as he ran his hand over his jaw then took stock of the rest of himself.

Susan noticed his peculiar stance. "What's wrong?" she called.

"Thought this woulda disappeared."

"What?"

He motioned with an open palm to his face and chest. "This. You know." He couldn't even say it.

She finished up, left the water running as she stepped out of the glass stall and wrapped herself in a towel. "Logan what are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "Oh, your gray hair." She shrugged as she went to her sink and began to towel her hair.

He continued to stand there just staring at himself and muttering.

"Hon you need to get a move on if we're going to be on time."

"Right" he replied absently. "I really thought this was temporary."

"Logan what's the big deal? If that's the only side effect count yourself lucky and get over it."

He didn't know what kind of response he expected from her, but that definitely wasn't it.

With a steely frown on his face he picked up the razor and began harshly raking away at his face.

"What wrong with you?" she asked over the whir of the blow dryer.

He didn't answer and then in a few moments stomped into the shower and slammed the door.

She jumped in surprise. "Logan? What's the problem?"

He had his back toward her and the hot water steamed up the glass partitions. He heard the question but ignored her.

"Oh for heaven's sake" she muttered and began to dress. _What is his problem,_ she thought?_ Oh my gosh, he really is upset about a little gray hair. Oh well, I guess if I woke up and was suddenly faced with it I wouldn't be too pleased either. _ She waited until he was through in the shower and then approached him gently.

"Talk to me, Bright Eyes."

He shrugged and shook his head, his face still etched with a stony scowl.

"Please."

"Whadaya want me to say?" he answered in a low growl.

"Whatever you want or need to say."

He snorted and pulled on his shorts. He muttered a string of curses, flipped his damp towel haphazardly over the towel bar and leaned against the sink. The fire went out of his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "Been through a lotta shit in the last few months, ya know? Lotta changes real fast."

Susan moved closer to him and reached to touch his cheek. He intercepted, took her hand in his and rested his face against both their hands. "We've both been through a lot of changes" she concurred "it's what life's all about."

He sighed and looked to the ceiling. "Yeah, guess so. Just didn't pan out the way I expected."

"Logan, you're dancing around something here. What is it?"

He looked away from her. "I dunno." Then after a long moment gently squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes. "Guess I don't like the reminder that-----that I'm not as indestructible as I thought."

"Time's going to march on for everyone; it's not negotiable but…" she was really searching for something to buoy him up. "you've done a heckuva job rewriting the rules."

"I think it's called cheating."

"Just luckier than the average bear. Look at me Bright Eyes." She ran her hand over his face and then down his bare chest. "I love every bit of you and if you'd emerged from the virus aged even more or, God forbid, with a permanent disability, I'd still love you."

He pulled her close. "Never doubted that, darlin'."

"And you know what? I think that bit of gray you've got is unbelievably sexy." Then she kissed him full and hard on the mouth. "Get over here" she murmured and pulled him over to the bed.

They never made it to church, but when Susan was through convincing him how sexy he was, it was nearly noon and Logan suggested they head over Xavier's School. He was feeling a little guilty about cutting out on Saturday and besides, Sunday brunch at School was a very good deal and he was hungry again. Charles provided an opportunity for the kids to dress up and practice some formal manners while being fed a good spread of food and Logan never was one to miss an opportunity for a tasty, free meal.

And then there was a bit of Public Relations finessing that Logan and Susan needed to accommodate. As soon as word spread through Xavier's School that a certain white Jaguar pulled up in the circular drive a welcoming committee formed at the huge front doors. Logan was greeted by rambunctious high fives and hugs and kisses from the majority of the student body, faculty and staff with one glaring exception.

She held back from the throng shooting hateful stares at Susan and refused to make any eye contact with Logan. He didn't even need to get close to sense hurt, anger and a bit of jealousy. What he didn't understand was why? Why was his special 'kid' sending mental hate missiles in every direction? He and Susan made their way through the crowd and just as they approached she quickly turned and darted away.

Logan gently touched Susan shoulder. "Go on in, I'll catch up to ya" he murmured.

She questioned him with her eyes but he'd already gone.

He caught up to her in the TV room, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees on a couch with her back toward him. The strong emotions were coming off her in waves and from the way she trembled, he knew she was crying. He paused at the far end of the couch. "Hey kid?" He kept his voice low and gentle.

She froze for second then finally whispered "Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Already in, aren't ya?"

"Wanna talk?"

She didn't answer.

"Marie?"

Silence

He stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened and then shrugged him off. He sighed and backed off. "Ok, I'll be around whenever you're ready."

Just as he got to the doorway he heard a quiet voice. "Logan, wait a sec, please." She turned to face him.

"I'm all yours, darlin'" and he took a seat on the couch beside her. "What's goin' on?"

Emotion erupted from the young woman. "Awww Logan I wanted to hate her and then I wanted to hate you…..You died and_ she_ sent us all away……Damn it I had a right to be there."

_Whoa, what's she gettin' at?_ he questioned in his mind. "Who sent you away from where?"

"Doctor Sue. When the Professor said to stop, she made everybody go. It's wasn't fair. We're more a part of each other than she'll ever be—you're in my head Logan."

_Aw shit, she's jealous. How the hell do I handle this,_ he thought?

Marie continued, "Then you took off .…without even sayin' nothin'….."

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close letting her vent her feelings and struggling what to say. After a few minutes she wasn't sobbing as much as just hiccupping and thoroughly soaking his shirt sleeve with tears.

"It's ok, darlin'. Yeah, I did take off yesterday; didn't do it to hurt ya, though."

She pulled away and nodded.

Logan continued, "Wouldn't do anything to hurt ya, Marie and neither would Susan."

Marie pursed her lips and scowled.

He could smell the jealousy on her and realized there was no easy way to deal with it. He always counted on her maturity and hoped it was at work now. He lifted her chin with his index finder to look directly at her. "Marie, put yourself in Susan's place."

She continued to scowl and then very slowly her face relaxed leaving something else-- empathy. "Guess I was bein' selfish" she finally admitted.

"No you weren't. You were being human. You got a great capacity to care, darlin' and" he fumbled for the words "that means a lot; means a lot to me."

"Maybe I oughtta take of you" she suggested.

"We'll take care of each other, kid."

"Pinky swear on it, Logan?"

He chuckled and held his right pinky out. "Pinky swear."

She giggled.

"That's the smile I like. Come on, let's get some chow."

By the time they were through eating and socializing it was becoming evident that Logan overdid it; just like Hank had warned. Susan gathered him, took him back home and ensconced him on the couch for the rest of the day to watch ice hockey and doze. The only comment he made to admit any discomfort was something to the effect of Hank being right about starting back on food slowly. The sausage and bacon he'd consumed lay in his gut like a lead weight for most of late afternoon and early evening.

Susan took Monday off; both to catch up on her rest and keep Logan from misbehaving. She decided a short outing would do them both good and had a slight ulterior motive dragging him along. This coming Saturday was the hospital Christmas Party and he didn't have a suit to wear. It didn't take long for him to figure he'd been out- maneuvered when the destination of their outing was the Mall and he knew he was really up shits creek as she led him into Brooks Brothers.

"Susie, what are you doing" he asked?

"Helping you find a suit for the hospital party" she answered sweetly.

"Umm; didn't know I needed help" he said looking up at the ceiling and rolling his eyes. He was thinking that he wasn't going to wear a suit. _What the hell's wrong with a cashmere turtleneck and a leather sport jacket? _

"Well, it's getting close on time and if you need any alterations, it has to be done now."

He shook his head in resignation. The adolescent side of him thought; _ok, I'll get the suit,_ _but she can't make me wear it._

A youthful and extraordinarily groomed salesman took careful note of their entrance into the shop and immediately glommed onto Logan who sensed a little more than a business interest from the young man. Susan pulled several styles in dark Navy blue off the rack and handed them to the salesman. Then she led Logan by the hand back to the fitting area.

Logan hissed to Susan "He puts one hand on me I'll …."

"Don't get your shorts in a wad!" she cut him off in a loud whisper. When the salesman exited for a moment she lit into him. "What's the matter with you? Of all people, I'd expect_ some_ tolerance from you."

"Aw hell, Susie. Yeah I know. I mean it's not a problem. But…"

She cut him a hard look and he knew he couldn't say anything useful. Not meaning to, he'd dug himself into a hole. He exhaled and muttered something ripe.

Gently and quietly she reminded him, "He's well aware you're with me."

Logan responded with an embarrassed smirk. He'd been around the block enough to know how the game worked. Feeling like a hypocrite wasn't something he did with grace. Logan hated the fitting; hated contact with a complete stranger; hated the whole 'establishment' ideal of buying a business suit. His image was - -well---what was his image lately? It wasn't Mr. Businessman, that was for sure. Then there was this whole thing about Susan assuming control. His ego really didn't do well with that. No way was he going to admit to anybody, including himself that he might need a little advice buying a suit.

Susan and the salesman consulted back and forth, pretty much over and around an increasingly irritable Logan. They discussed what seemed to look best and what alteration needed to be done here and there and what dress shirt and tie would go best; cuffed, straight hem, narrow or boot cut for the trousers? More form fitting or loose jacket? Logan was certain the salesman lingered on those inseam measurements longer than was necessary and rumbled a low growl once or twice but the twit seemed to persist.

"Do I get a say in any of this?" Logan asked the tension obvious in his voice and mannerism.

"Of course" she answered. "Which do you like best?" she said gesturing to the various styles he had tried on.

"How about none of 'em" Logan snapped harshly and shook his leg; causing the salesman to jump back.

Susan caught Logan's frustration and chose to completely ignore it. "None isn't the right answer."

By this point, the salesman wisely decided to retreat the fitting area. Logan shrugged off the jacket and was about to get out of the trousers when she stood up from the chair she sat in. "If you really are opposed to this, then ok. But honestly, Logan, this is kind of important to me." Her look was almost pleading.

_Shit, shit, and triple shit,_ he thought He rubbed his hand over his face and heaved a deep sigh. "Whatever! Ok." he finally said. "But not this jacket" he said pointing to the one on the floor that he'd shrugged off "and I want the boot cut trousers."

Logan settled on an Italian style jacket, which for his build; would require the least amount of altering. Only the sleeves had to be hemmed to the right length. The trousers required a bit more altering, no matter what style they chose. "You've got such a skinny, tight butt" Susan couldn't help teasing. He just scowled at her and then thought he'd gag when the salesman concurred with a flourishing wave of his hand that he had the 'perfect' build.

When it came time to choose the shirt, Logan was all set to pick something off the shelf, but she made him stand for more measurements. "Now what?" he growled.

"I just want to know your shirt size."

His eyes flashed frustration. "Oh for Chrissake; mens- large! See it's even on the label."

What he didn't know was that she planned on ordering him several custom- made shirts for Christmas. The final item was a tie. By this point in time all he wanted to do was be done with it and get the hell out of there. He just nodded when she picked out a very nice red and gold silk tie.

Logan bolted out of the store at the first opportunity as she finished up the order and paid the bill. She caught up with him outside the shop, leaning against a light pole, smoking one of his cigars and it was glaringly obvious that he was not a happy camper.

"So how much did all this aggravation cost?" sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Umm; not too much. You got a lot" she hedged.

"How much?" he demanded.

"Around a grand. I put it on my Am-Ex."

"You gotta be kidding!" he nearly choked. Great! He didn't want it in the first place and now it was a charity deal.

He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, gnawed on the end of the cigar and walked briskly down the street toward the parking garage, muttering to himself the entire way. Susan had to double- time it to keep up. She wisely said nothing, allowing him to vent however he wanted.

He held the truck door open for her. "I'm going to wear this thing exactly once. A thousand bucks! Susan that's nuts" he groused and shut the door. He tossed his half- smoked cigar into a puddle of semi-melted snow and got into the driver side slamming the door for good measure.

"You might wear it more than once, you know" she offered quietly.

He snorted. _How likely was that_, he thought? If he was going to blow a grand on something, how about….. ? He was so aggravated he couldn't even think of anything at the moment. "Do you have any more shopping you want to torture me with" he asked snarkily?

"No, I think that's it for today. Let's go home..." she answered.

"Good" he cut her off as he gunned the engine and screeched out of the parking garage.

"….and do some baking" she continued

"Baking?"

"Christmas cookies" she answered with an innocent smile. "I've got to get started on them; sort of lost a whole week while you were sick."

He just kept on driving his hands gripping the steering wheel; jaw clenched still more than slightly irked from shopping.

"I think you might enjoy that a bit better than shopping. All I really need you to do is keep me company…."

_Oh my God, the woman can run off at the mouth,_ he thought as she prattled on.

She continued, not really looking in his direction. "… Well, maybe a bit more than that."

Logan read between the lines. She was getting tired and was priming him up to do most of the baking while she supervised. _Son of a bitch; goddamn suit and tie, now baking! Yeah, I'm pussy whipped. _

Susan set things up perfectly for the cookie baking. She turned the TV to ESPN where a Canadian hockey game just happened to be broadcasting. She had him haul out the heavy mixer and then told him to sit down and watch the game. She even brought him a cold beer; his first since coming down with the virus. Her tactic was perfect, because curiosity and the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies got the better of him. When the game went into a break he couldn't help but wander into the kitchen and steal some cookies.

"Nah ah!" she slapped his hand away. "You want a sample you have to earn it."

"No fair!" he complained.

"Am too" she shot back with a laugh. "Here, drop spoonfuls onto the tray." She handed him two spoons and watched over him. "Not so much!"

"Hey, if I'm doin' this I'm makin' 'em my size. Ok?"

"They won't bake right if they're too big" she warned.

"Alright. How about this?" He reduced the amount of dough he placed on the pan.

"Perfection!"

"But of course, m'dear." He pulled a finished batch out of the oven, replacing it with another.

"Bright Eyes, have you thought anymore about visiting your mother?"

Logan knew this conversation was coming but hadn't really thought about it. There were so many unresolved issues that left him feeling confused. "Nope" he finally answered.

"Should I just drop this whole thing?" she asked.

He leaned against the counter and heaved a sigh. "God! I dunno. Susan, is this important to you?"

She stopped what she was doing and focused her complete attention on him. "She's the only grandmother our children will have."

That was an angle he hadn't really considered being selfishly tied up in his own issues with Elizabeth. Maybe it would be good to find out now if any type of relationship with her and his sister was possible. He stared off into space for a long time debating with himself and remembered their conversation before the wedding. "Alright, let's give it a try."

"I'm so glad. Why don't you give Elizabeth a call; let her know we're coming."

He knew that was coming. With a roll of his eyes he grabbed the phone from the charger and fumbled with the pre-programmed memory for the number. Listening to the ring tones he had butterflies in his stomach. Good grief; he was a grown man making a simple phone call to accept a gracious invitation.

Philip the butler answered in clipped Canadian English. Logan spoke entirely in French. Philip put the call directly through with nothing more than a 'very good, sir' remark.

"Elizabeth. This is Lo—uh, James. How are you?"

"James!" She sounded moderately surprised. "I'm quite well. Thank you."

Wanting to get the conversation over, Logan went directly to the point. "We got your invitation and we'd like to accept. Would the day after Christmas through New Year's Day be ok?"

There was even more surprise in Elizabeth's voice. She wanted him to come but never believed he would. "That would be perfectly marvelous, son. Will it just be you and Susan?"

"Her sons, if that's ok?"

"Of course. Refresh my memory, how old are the boys?"

Logan had to think about it for a moment. "Fifteen and eighteen…somewhere around that, anyway."

"Excellent. How is your wife?"

"Good." It was getting a little more chatty than he was ready for.

"And you, son?"

"Doin fine. Busy as hell."

"Are you recovered from your illness?"

It was Logan's turn to be surprised. "Umm, yeah. How'd you know?"

"Susan called me."

"She did?" His voice trailed off for a moment "It was kind of a rough time…" Then more loudly "but I'm ok now."

Elizabeth could hear the discomfort in Logan's voice. "I'll be very happy to see you. Let me know your travel arrangements. Give Susan my regards. Good bye, James."

"Ok. Thanks. Bye." he clicked off the phone and put it back in the charger.

"Considering I didn't understand a word you said, you want to clue me in on just what our plans are?" Susan asked.

"Oh, sorry. How does December twenty sixth through January first sound?"

"Works for me. I assume we are staying at her home?"

"Yeah." There was trepidation written on his face and reflected in his voice.

"What's the closest ski resort? I'm going to need to change our reservations."

"Ummm…. don't remember. There's plenty of good cross country and snowboarding terrain on the estate." Logan got an odd, far away look in his eyes. A memory was coming back. "Oh man! I'd forgotten that" he muttered.

"What, sweetie?"

He shook his head as if trying to gather his thoughts. Quickly he went into the study and began to rummage through the trunk.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sticking her head in the door.

"Ha! Here it is." he answered triumphantly.

Susan came to his side. Logan held a black and white photo showing three boys. One appeared to be about twelve or thirteen. The other two were much younger, perhaps five or six. She knew the older boy was Logan's older brother, JP and it was easy to pick out Logan. The third little boy resembled Logan quite a bit in complexion and what little hair coloring could be seen. All three boys were bundled up in winter coats and hats, proudly showing off wooden toboggans.

"Who is that?" she asked pointing to the third child.

"Kai. We were best friends from when I was maybe three or four until that summer when we got polio. He was Tom's…." Logan stopped in mid sentence and he had a strange look on his face. "He was Tom's son. Oh man, he's my half-brother!" Logan rambled on, lost in the re-emerging memory. "Kai and I were the same age. Our birthdays were close. Anyway, for a couple weeks in the summer and at Christmas, Tom would bring Kai to the estate. We did everything together. Tom would take us fishing or camping, even hunting; you know really cool stuff that my parents were definitely not going to participate in."

"What happened to Kai?" she asked

Logan was asking himself the same questions and a few more. He shook his head. "I don't know. After that summer when we got sick, I never saw him again."

"He didn't die, did he?"

"No." his answer was firm and sure.

"I had hoped for a while Kai would come back but he never did. Nobody would ever tell me anything. One time I brought it up in front of my Dad and he beat the tar outta me. Then they shipped me off to boarding school." Logan suddenly looked depressed and lost. "Everybody and everything changed after JP died. If there was ever a demarcation between a before and after, JP's death was one."

Why don't you track Kai down?" Susan suggested.

Logan shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know if Tom's family knew about me. It's not my place to stir that up; plus there is the little detail about how I killed Tom. Don't think that would go over too well, eh."

"I completely understand your point." she agreed.

**More good stuff to come.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Notes: First and foremost the world's biggest thank you goes to Rhiannon UK. Without her, this chapter would have gone into the recycle bin or worse. I have to give her one hundred percent credit for several of lines. Be watching for 'the insult'. Maid of the Mer, the answer to your question is: the next book! I'm awful I know. But calculate; conception happened in July and it's just before Christmas in the time line now. I'm still loving the feedback and please don't hesitate even if it's not always positive. I actually wouldn't mind getting flamed; it means people are paying attention and care. **

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

Logan stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He was nearly dressed, save for tucking in the new dress shirt and struggling in vain to tie his tie. The last time he wore a tie, well he couldn't remember when.

Susan heard him cussing and fussing. "What's a matter, Bright Eyes?" she inquired, sticking her head out of the closet door.

"Nothin."

"You sure?"

"No! Susie, come 'ere. Help me with this" he acquiesced.

He let out a low whistle when she emerged from her closet. She wore a lovely cream colored, cashmere, pearl beaded tunic and trousers. She'd pulled her hair up in that French twist she liked so much and finished off her look with pearl earrings.

Tonight was the formal hospital Christmas Party. Logan would be lying if he said he was comfortable about it. He wasn't the formal type, despite discoveries about his well-off past. He really did think all the pretense was crap. If it wasn't so important to her he'd gladly be doing just about anything else.

Susan did his tie in no time; something about raising two boys made that skill one of those 'mommy things'. She handed the jacket to him. "Logan, you look outstanding."

And he did! He was a bit of a chameleon when it came to appearances. He could be and had been extremely grungy looking. That mutton chopped, biker, semi-criminal look being the best example. Tonight, right now, he could pass for any professional hot-shot on Wall Street, top-level attorney or even a doctor—and not just any doctor—expensive specialist type of doctor.

He snorted in response to her compliment. The tie was too tight, the shirt was too starched and he felt like a total geek. He couldn't imagine just what he was going to have in common with these professional at this fancy party. Save for the few that were in the Friday Happy Hour crew, he really was going to be out of his element. Oh yeah, former nut-case, manual laborer, oil rigger, trucker, cage fighter or whatever, now high school gym teacher was going to fit in real well. Maybe he could really freak them all out and talk about his former career as a spy and assassin; better yet, being an X-Man. R-i-g-h-t!

He didn't have many real hobbies. Well yeah, his music but that was private. Yachting? He chuckled aloud and shook his head when Susan asked what he was laughing at. Golf? A complete bore. Tennis? Did that a long time ago. Racketball? Well, once in a while. Hockey? Loved it but didn't think it would be real up there with the country club set. There was flying; though he considered that part of his other job-the one he couldn't talk about. He'd learned to love it and got over being sick when he went up; _but--!_

Small talk wasn't something he did and truth be told he didn't care if he ever got the knack for it. The world didn't need yet another bullshit slinger. Tonight he was going to be arm-candy for Doctor Susan Harris. What had she ever seen in him? Whatever it was he was glad she did.

"Let's get this over with" he said, escorting her to the car.

"Don't make it sound like your facing the hangman, hon."

"I think I'd rather do that." he answered and grabbed the end of his tie, pulled it up like a noose and at the same time cocked his head to the side and hung out his tongue.

She laughed. "You're such an idiot! Ok, I'll let you in on a secret. I hate this thing too. It's politics, pure and simple. Let's make an appearance, schmooze where we need to and then split. We can do something else."

He grinned at the suggestion and gunned the jag as he shot out the driveway.

East Westchester Country Club was a posh, over-the- top sort of place that Logan would never be caught dead in. Too fine-trimmed; too stuffy; too expensive; just too much everything. It crossed his mind that if fate had lent him a different hand; he might actually be living this sort of lifestyle. Nah! He remembered that even as kid he loved wide-open spaces, simplicity and solitude.

Susan's voice intruded on his thoughts as they queued the car to park. "Whatcha thinking?"

"You still a member here?" he replied.

"Yes; but only a social member."

"What's that mean?"

"Women can't have a full membership- unless they're married to a member. Lost that when Allen and I divorced."

He frowned and his comment was cut off as a pimply faced kid in an ill-fitting uniform opened the passenger side door. "Good evening Ma'am." The kid glanced at Logan who still wore a frown. "Good evening, Sir" the kid's voice cracked. Susan shot Logan a 'be nice' look and allowed the young man to help her from the car.

The young man scurried to the driver's side and Logan felt tension build in his gut. He'd much rather park the car himself for a couple of reasons. First, his sense of paranoia; every where he went he was alert for threats. It's easy to quickly install bugging devices or worse. The second was more realistic as he sized up the kid and wondered whether he was even old enough to have a driver's license. This _kid_ was going to park Susan's classic Jaguar? He loved Susan and like any self-respecting man developed a strong attachment to her sleek, mint- condition car. He didn't move for a long moment after the kid opened the door but then noticed Susan waiting on the carpeted walkway. Abruptly Logan exited the car and growled "Park it close."

The kid smiled nervously, handed Logan the Recall Ticket and replied "Yes sir."

"What was that all about?" she asked taking his arm as they walked up the stairs to the club house.

"What was what?"

"You seem--well I don't know what; but definitely not happy."

"Don't like valet parking."

She frowned and answered absently "Oh." Then she shrugged not wanting to engage the subject any further. Before they got to the doorman at main entrance she murmured to him "Anything else you don't like I need to know about?"

He caught the slight sarcasm in her tone. "Over reacting?" he asked quietly.

"Getting close." _Oh boy, were not even inside the door yet_ she thought. _This gonna be one of those nights where a few drinks just might do him some good._

She felt him draw in a quiet breath and felt him relax ever so slightly as they made their way inside. He took her wrap and handed it to the coat room attendant. She watched him survey the surroundings and noticed his nose wrinkle as he took in all the scents.

"Bar's that way" she mentioned hoping to break some of his tension.

Just then three other couples came up. It was the Weinberg's, a neighbor and Susan's obstetrician. The other couple, Doctor Paula Wellbourne; Susan's close friend and colleague and her date, David Abernathy an attorney who also happened to be Mutant; and finally Amar Satvik, the neurologist who helped after Logan's bike wreck, and his wife. Greetings, handshakes and embraces were shared before they made their way to the ballroom.

Logan had two strong scotches in quick succession before he began to feel a bit more relaxed. It definitely helped that Lance Weinberg and David Abernathy were hockey enthusiasts and they fell into conversation easily.

They'd made their way from the bar to an ornate buffet table laden with ice sculptures holding shrimp, oysters and caviar and chafing dishes loaded with every type of delectable finger food imaginable. Logan checked out the sushi and declared it so-so. Lance Weinberg suggested oyster shooters and Logan looked slightly ill as Lance swallowed back a plump raw oyster floating in vodka. Logan enjoyed seafood as long as it was cooked. Consuming something that resembled a glob of snot wasn't up there on his list of must-do experiences.

"Pretty good spread" he commented to Susan as they stood alone for a few minutes.

"Glad you like it. Little smaller than last year, though."

"Who'd you go with last year?"

She had to think about it. "Nobody."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She responded to his look. "Believe it or not! Actually I'd just broken off with someone just before last year's party."

"Anybody I know?" He was curious but didn't want to appear so.

"Don't think so."

"What happened?"

"It just petered out. He wasn't from here and it just got too hard to get together." She had a long-distance look in her eyes and then shook it away. "Wish I'd known you then" and she gave him a quick kiss.

A moment or two later he sensed in increase in her tension level. "What's up?" he whispered.

She frowned ever so slightly. "Just Leslie Van Kessel and Howard Lippincott"

He nodded, knowing Doctor Van Kessel's name and had suffered through more than one tirade from Susan about the woman. "What's the guy's story?"

"Chief Attending in Neurology…."

Van Kessel and Lippincott spotted Susan and Logan and made their way toward them.

Susan looked directly at Logan so that her lips could not be read. "…and since we're not going to be able to dodge them; give me your impression." Next she turned and greeted the two with a formal smile. "Leslie, Howard! Happy Holidays." She shook hands with the woman but Howard make a point to zoom in for a kiss and Susan deftly turned her cheek. "I'd like you to meet my husband, James Logan."

Shaking Leslie Van Kessel's hand and uttering a polite greeting wasn't too difficult for Logan. She didn't make an impression on him one way or the other. Howard Lippincott was an entirely different matter. Something about him immediately set Logan on edge and it wasn't just that the guy tried to kiss his wife. There are some individuals that no matter what will never get along with other individuals. Logan felt an immediate dislike and odd distrust of the man. To top it off the guy stunk from obnoxious but probably expensive cologne, quite a bit of bourbon and something else. Potent rancor radiated from the man creating an aura that only Logan could sense.

Lippincott offered his hand to Logan but his tone of voice was pointedly disingenuous "So you're the man who took the lovely Doctor Harris off the market?"

_Like you really had a shot at her_ Logan thought. He couldn't bring himself to shake Lippincott's hand and it was all he could do to not snarl. With control he didn't realize he had, Logan simply gave the man a tense nod.

The pair didn't miss Logan's slight and after an awkward moment departed to converse elsewhere.

"Okie dokie" Susan said quietly. "I think I know what your impression is."

"Susie, I'm sorry. That guy's…"

"A major league asshole" she offered.

He nodded. "That's a place to start." He shook his head in disgust. "You ever go out with him?"

She laughed out loud and then quietly replied "Only in a nightmare."

"Stay away from him" he warned in a low growl "he's dangerous."

As the evening progressed small talk began to give way to the Mutant Registration Act and speculation on its impact at the hospital. Susan and Logan tried to keep within the confines of their like-minded friends and keep to party appropriate topics. Not that they didn't have strong opinions; they simply believed this was not the forum to express them.

People seemed to divide into distinct camps. One group seemed to portray an ostrich-like attitude and conversed practically allegorically about the issue. Inevitably there was a group that didn't come out and declare emphatic support for the MRA but there was no mistaking their position. While most seemed polite about expressing their views, two were not and one was becoming increasingly louder as he downed bourbon after bourbon-- Howard Lippincott.

With acute hearing Logan could pick up on almost any conversation in the ballroom and Susan noticed increased tension etched on his face. It didn't take enhanced auditory abilities to hear Lippincott and Susan guessed he might be a source of Logan's stress.

Luckily a jazz quintet began to play. Figuring to distract him, Susan whispered playfully in his ear. "Wanna dance, hot stuff?" He wrinkled his nose and was about to say no when she took him by the arm and left him no choice.

"I guess the right answer's yes dear I'd _love_ to dance" he quipped, pulled her close and took the lead.

"Astutely perceptive" she replied flippantly. "Besides we haven't been dancing since Labor Day Weekend."

He nuzzled her neck and murmured. "I feel stupid."

She pulled back a bit and gazed at him sympathetically. "You shouldn't. You're a great dancer."

He snorted then dipped her back slightly. "And you're a good liar." He twirled her and then brought her back close, finishing the motion with a kiss.

Snippets of conversation around the ball room still filtered through and Logan couldn't suppress the tension one particular group caused him. He lead Susan to another section of the dance floor hoping distance would help but he still overheard too much.

_. . .can't get this thing implemented fast enough . . ._.

_agreed, how many more incidences must the world suffer. . . _

_. . .if you ask me the MRA doesn't go nearly far enough. . ._

_. . .I served on the drafting committee. You won't believe how watered down it's become. _

"Well if you ask me" Lippincott spoke too loudly again "they ought to sterilize 'em all and throw 'em into concentration camps."

Logan tensed, gripped her tighter and let out a low growl.

"Ouch! Easy Bright Eyes" she gasped, the breath knocked out of her.

He loosened his grip "Sorry." The music stopped and he was eager to get off the dance floor. Even from their table he could still hear Lippincott spewing hateful sentiments.

Susan leaned in close. "Logan, I've got to visit with a few more big shots. Give me about half an hour and we can go."

"Ok." He glanced over at the doorway leading to another section of the country club. "I'm gonna get some air."

She scrutinized him carefully looking for signs he might be headed toward a meltdown. "You going to be ok?"

He gave her a slight nod then hustled to the bar to refresh his drink with a double. Once in the hallway, out of earshot and scent of Lippincott he felt slightly better. His keen nose picked up on an unusually comforting aroma; cigars! It only took him a moment to zero in on a smoking lounge; a tiny spot of heaven in a place that was becoming more hellish by the minute. The distinctly masculine room was conveniently deserted for the moment. Excellent quality cigars were for the taking; a perk of club membership or in this case the guest of a member. He picked one, lit up and then wandered to a bank of windows overlooking a snow covered putting green. The music from the jazz quintet filtered in and it added an element of calm he definitely needed. He took a swallow of scotch and then another drag of his stogie. He could handle it a little while longer if he stayed clear of Lippincott and his Nazi's.

Meanwhile Susan again hooked up with Paula, David and the Weinbergs. "What's a matter, girlfriend?" Paula asked noticing Susan's thinly veiled distress.

"Have you heard Howard tonight?"

Lance Weinberg chuckled sarcastically. "There's one in every crowd."

"I suppose; but he's really pushing the envelope" Susan lamented.

"Isn't he with Leslie Van Kessel tonight? Maybe she could shut him up" Paula offered.

"Not likely. She's been sucking up to him since he cast the deciding ballot for her ascension to ER chief attending" Susan replied.

"You mean sucking him off."

Everybody laughed as Lance's wife slapped his forearm. "Let's keep it professional, darling."

"Hey Sue, where's your honey?" Paula inquired.

"Probably off somewhere being sick to his stomach over Lippincott and company."

"Wouldn't blame him in the least. I'm surprised he hasn't punched the pig in the mouth."

"That's why were leaving soon" Susan replied. "Anybody interested in heading into the city? Rockefeller Center maybe?"

"Sounds like a plan" Paula agreed as she cast David a questioning glance. He raised his glass in affirmation. "Works for me."

"Count us out" Leora Weinberg lamented. "Babysitter, you know."

"Been there done that" Susan laughed.

With a friendly twinkle in his eye, Lance teased "Looks like you haven't quite figured out what leads to needing babysitters yet."

Susan stuck her tongue out. "And aren't you glad too. It's women like me who keep you in business." Ok, folks, 'scuse me for a sec while I powder my nose and track down that wayward man of mine."

A cavernous foyer heralded locker and restrooms. Left led to the ladies lockers, showers and lavatories and card room. To the right led to the men's lockers, showers, lavatories and a smoking/gaming lounge.

Susan's arrival at the shared junction between the two restrooms coincided with another, entirely unwelcome arrival. "Looking particularly lovely this evening, Susan" he spoke with a leering voice She flashed a polite smile and moved past. He blocked her way. "So what's with your _date _tonight? A bit of an unfriendly sort."

"Not at all Howard" Susan kept her voice unnaturally polite but added an edge "and you know he's _not_ my date."

With an exaggerated gesture he replied "Ah, I stand corrected. You two were _married _recently, yes?"

"That's right. Please excuse me Howard." She tried to push past him.

Actively blocking her path, he continued his interrogation. "He teaches at that _mutie_ school, if I'm not mistaken." He spat out the word mutie.

Harshly she replied "It's really none of your business, Doctor Lippincott."

Lippincott moved even closer, his fetid liquor breath turned her stomach. "He's one of _them_, isn't he? I saw the records from that motorcycle wreck. Thought you'd slip it by, did you?"

She backed away, "I slipped nothing by, doctor."

"I didn't notice a copy of a Disclosure Form in his charts."

"It wasn't required" Susan defended.

"So true. Rest assured that's one of the welcome changes coming." Lippincott was referring to a voluntary government report anytime a mutant received medical care; which after the first of the coming year would become mandatory. "Better way to keep track of _them_," He moved in close again and reached for her. "Don't you agree my dear?"

Her temper boiled and she pushed him away. "Back off Howard!"

He stumbled. "Fine! Suit yourself, Doctor Harris. Let me offer you a piece of advice. Be cautious who you ally yourself with----"

She cut him off. "Taking into account your present condition, I'm going to try real hard to ignore what you've just said. I'm certain you won't remember in the morning. Now let's drop it shall we?" She forced herself past and slammed the heavy restroom door in his face.

He barely dodged the heavy door making contact with his nose and stumbled back, cursing. Infuriated at his inability to visibly intimidate her, he stalked into the men's smoking lounge. He didn't notice Logan on the far side of the lounge. He picked out a cigar, lit up and spoke aloud. "Stupid fucking mutie-loving cunt."

Logan had heard the exchange between them and had been moments from intervention when she'd handled it to his satisfaction. He growled in a menacing tone "Who ya talkin' to, bub?"

Lippincott startled momentarily and scanned the room. Having no real clue what Logan's enhanced powers were, the lethal weapons he carried within in his body, or his predisposition to violence, he immediately went on verbal offensive. "Ah, the good doctor's latest boy toy! I just don't see what her attraction was. Certainly no credentials."

Logan stood stock still and remained silent. _Is this asshole fer real?_ he thought. _Fuck off and die already, bub. _

Logan's silent wish wasn't to be and Lippincott continued to spew his verbal attack. "Ah, but youth- that must be it. She's always trots out the most stylish metros when she makes her public appearances."

Logan still sensed the strong aura of hatred clearly projected at him, but he also sensed envy and realized Lippincott had a thing for Susan. He stared at the slightly overweight, squarely built, balding man and almost snickered at the thought. He took another swig of scotch and drag on his cigar. Surprisingly it wasn't hard to stay silent. He wanted to see how deep Lippincott would dig himself.

"And of course you're Mutant, _aren't_ you? She's always been partial to…" He paused, searching for a word and his tone became venomous. "_scum_ like that."

The stink of Lippincotts's enmity was overwhelming and Logan fought hard not to erupt into a snarl, settling instead for a death scowl.

Lippincott ignored his death glare and continued with his poison. "Up to this point I suppose people thought her interests were purely altruistic. She felt sorry for the _poor_, _misunderstood_ muties." Lippincott held his hands in front of his stomach, mimicking an enlarged, pregnant figure. "Clearly her interests were beyond altruism. Those spawn of hers and yours" He phrased the word_ yours_ with the lilt of a question. "do test positive."

Silence suited Logan no longer. With an edge of violence in his tone, he spoke evenly and deliberately. "Watch it bub! You can hold whatever fucked-up opinion you want about Mutants but when ya start insultin' my wife and unborn children, yer gonna answer to me."

Lippincott chuckled sarcastically. "Insulting? I'm simply stating the truth. Do you know what people _really_ think of her?"

Lightning bolts of rage coursed up his spine and his knuckles itched as he fought the urge to spring his claws. "Shut the fuck up!" he growled menacingly.

Clueless to the danger, Lippincott continued. "When she brings her swollen belly into the hospital, they think there goes the whore who let a freak mutie bastard like you pollute her body to propagate your filthy gene-trash spawn."

Logan ground his jaw and flashed his canines as his breath heaved in his chest. He growled, his claws poised for action just below the surface of his knuckles

Stupidly, Lippincott kept on. "By marrying you she didn't merely lower her standards to the gutter, she wiped her ass with humanity and spat in the face of her friends and colleagues"

That was it! **_Snickt!_** Out sprang six razor sharp instruments of retribution and Logan bellowed in undiluted fury "I'll fuckin kill you!"

Lippincott went pale as his starched shirt and he dropped both his cigar and glass. Seconds before Logan's claws made contact with his throat a miniscule grain of reason pulled him back from committing cold blooded murder.Lippincott dropped like a stone as a fist smashed precisely into the soft depression just to the side of his larynx, his entire nervous system temporarily disrupted by a blow to his vagus nerve. As he hit the floor Logan squeezed his eyes shut, silently thanking whatever higher power kept him from backsliding into the black pit of berserker wrath.

Breath slowing to normal, adrenalin ebbing, restraint returning, he squared his shoulders and smiled with satisfaction. "Today's yer lucky day motherfucker" he muttered at Lippincott's prostrate form. He took one more drag of the cigar and swallowed back the last dregs of scotch. Definitely time to make a swift exit.

Susan who'd been searching spotted him as he made his way back to the ballroom. She immediately noticed him rubbing his left hand and didn't miss how the smug look on his face switched to guilty in the space of a few seconds. Her blood ran cold. "Logan, what happened?"

"Nothin'."

She grabbed his left hand and touched a droplet of blood. "Then what's this? For god's sake, you popped your claws!"

"Just needed to make a point. Didn't hurt anybody—much. But we might wanna get outta here. When he wakes up he's probably not gonna be very forgivin'."

"Logan what did you do?" she verged on panic.

"Just sucker punched that asshole Lippincott."

"Where?"

As he pointed toward the smoking lounge Leslie Van Kessel appeared. "Have either of you seen Howard?" Van Kessel was clearly vexed over her date's disappearance.

Verge of panic just shifted to full-blown panic as Susan tried to think of an answer. "I thought I saw him by the coat room, Leslie." Her fib sent Van Kessel in the opposite direction from the smoking lounge.

Paula and David strolled up with their wraps and he asked "You guys ready to go?"

"We can't quite yet. I've got to check on something" Susan answered and headed toward the restrooms.

"I'll come with you" Paula offered.

Susan nodded, took Paula's arm and pulled her along and whispered. "Remember when you said it's a wonder Logan didn't punch Lippincott?"

"Oh no! He did?"

"Yes and I've gotta make sure he's still alive." Susan turned to the right.

"We're headed into the men's room, girlfriend" Paula warned and stopped in her tracks.

"I know. Come on." She pulled on Paula's arm.

"Susan, we can't go in there."

"Well somebody has to."

"Ok, ok. But slow down a sec. You're hitting the panic button. Let's send David in to at least make sure the coast is clear."

Susan heaved a sigh. "You're right."

David and Logan stood watching this brief little scene. Thoroughly confused, David asked "Got any idea what those two are doing?"

"Damage control."

David looked even more confused. Just as he was about to ask for clarification Paula waved him over and Logan followed. "Dave, I need to you to go in there and let us know if it's empty."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Please. Just do it and make it quick."

David Abernathy shrugged and did as he was asked. After a moment he returned wearing a mask of mild panic "Uh, well it's not exactly empty. There's some guy passed out on the floor in the lounge."

"But no one else?" Susan ascertained.

"Nope."

"Perfect" she mumbled. "Paula you and Dave just keep watch, please. I don't want to involve you any more than necessary."

"Somebody want to explain what's going on?" David demanded.

Susan glanced at Paula who understood what she meant and responded with a slight nod.

Next Susan grabbed Logan by the arm "Get in here" she groused.

"Yes ma'am" he answered not at all certain this was a good idea. Leaving seemed the wisest choice to his mind.

Susan expected to see a bloody mess; if not stabs at least a bloody and broken nose or busted lip. The only body fluid evident was a telltale wet spot on Lippincott's trousers. She assured herself he was breathing and then turned to Logan. "I don't get it; he doesn't have a mark anywhere. Where'd you hit him?"

Logan didn't know the correct anatomical term so he just pointed to his own throat. "He doesn't have a mark now but I'm guessing they'll be a bruise tomorrow."

"Why in the hell _did _you pop your claws?" she demanded angrily.

He looked briefly guilty and then his look darkened as he thought of Lippincott's words.

"Logan, what? Did he threaten you, pull a weapon?"

He shook his head "Sorry babe. I guess I shouldn't have but he insulted you and I wasn't gonna let him get away with it."

She stood there, stunned and struggling with a flurry of emotions. She was proud of his chivalry yet wanted to throttle him for losing control and at the same time wanted to soothe his anger and frustrations.

He could smell her conflicting emotions but was at a loss for a response that wouldn't get him in more trouble. "Probably didn't exactly set pro-Mutant causes ahead any, eh?"

"Guess not" she agreed. "We'd better do some damage control while we can. Put him on the couch" she commanded. "What I'd give to have Charles around to wipe a bit of his memory" she muttered.

"I screwed up, huh?"

"You could say that."

Masculine voices interrupted. "Gentlemen" David spoke loudly. "Trust me you don't wanna go in there. One of the, uh, urinals, uh, exploded." Guffaws and curses was the response as David added "Told maintenance I'd watch things 'til they got here."

Paula added "There's another men's room in the south wing, by the pool."

David breathed with relief "Thank you my dear" and then stuck his head in the men's lounge. "Will you guys hurry up!" he begged.

Logan and Susan both nodded. Then she glanced at the unconscious man draped across the couch and couldn't help a snicker "Actually, it kind of looks like the poor guy couldn't hold his liquor."

David, fidgeting nervously, came closer "How drunk do you think he was?"

"Dunno. Probably not enough" Logan replied.

Paula called to them "Debate it later, Van Kessel's on her way with some guy."

Susan reasoned "Crud, she's figured out the only place she hasn't looked."

Logan glanced around the lounge. Then like quicksilver, darted to Paula and handed her Susan's coat check. "Meet us out front." To Susan and David he commanded "Come on, this way" and started for the door that led from the lounge outside to the putting green.

"So what kinda lawyer are ya, Dave?" Logan asked as they trotted around the clubhouse toward the main entry.

"Not the kind you're going to need, I'm afraid."


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

The voice came through like a dream. _Hey---Logan, Sue---pick up; it's Paula. Oh come on you two, it's important. _

Logan cracked open one eye and glanced at the alarm clock display. 9:15.

_All right—when you guys come up for air, call me. You know I wouldn't bother you on a Sunday if it wasn't vital. Later, bye._

Logan stretched, groaned and propped himself on elbows. _One freakin' day a week I get to sleep in _he muttered only to himself and the cat curled up in Susan's spot. "Git!" he growled at the feline who only yawned and flicked her tail rudely. "Yeah cat, I caught the fuck- off loud and clear" he grumbled as he made for the john. A few minutes later, he picked up the phone and punched re-dial. "Ok Doctor Paula, what's the big deal?"

"Excuse me" came a male voice.

"This doc Welbournes?"

"Yes."

"Dave?"

"Yes."

"Oh hey, sorry man, it's Logan. Paula left a voice mail."

"Oh yeah. Hang on, I'll get her." Logan heard David Abernathy holler her name and then static-y noise and finally

"Hey! Where's Sue?"

"Church" Logan answered.

"Oh, shoulda remembered. When'll she be back?"

"Half hour, forty five minutes. What's up lady?"

"You won't believe it! Remember your _buddy_ Howard Lippincott?"

Logan snorted

"The creep had a heart attack last night."

"No shit?"

"I chide you not. The paramedics brought him in early this morning. Guess who was with him?"

Logan really hadn't a clue. "Uh, why don't ya tell me?"

"Leslie."

"Leslie?"

"Doctor Van Kessel; you know the woman he came to the party with."

"Ok. So?"

"Oh never mind. Just have Sue give me a call when she gets in."

"No prob. Hey, did he make it?"

"When I finished up my shift he was critical but still hanging on."

_Damn shame_ Logan thought. "Ok. I'll tell Sue to call ya. Thanks Paula."

Susan flinched, feeling her pager phone vibrate against her hip. She ignored it for the moment and continued lecturing a small group of girls. "Ok, I'm supposed to show you this really lame film and honestly I don't think they've updated this since I was in high school." Her comment elicited nervous giggles. As lead pediatrician and being a woman, Charles asked her to teach The Family Life class; better known as sex-ed, at Xavier's School for the Gifted. Since Jean Gray's death, no one had felt comfortable taking over the girl's portion of the class. "But you know what ladies? This is stupid; so I'm changing the curriculum" Her pager phone did it again. "Oh bother, excuse me a moment." She stepped away and spoke crisply into her phone. "Doctor Harris"

"Sue, it's me." It was Doctor Paula Welbourne butshe knew that from the caller ID.

"I've got a situation here and I need your help."

"Ok, but I'm kind of in the middle of something at the moment."

"I'm sorry; I swear I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important. Paramedics brought in a young girl and she won't let anyone near to examine her."

"What do you mean by won't let anyone near? Come on Paula, we do have protocols."

"The kid's clearly Mutant and she's got some kind of ability to- oh what's the word? Sue, she can move things around with her mind, I'm guessing."

Susan raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"No I'm making it up" Paula snapped. "Can you get down here? Maybe you can get through to her."

"Like I'm going to be any better than you?"

"Yes you are and between the two of us we can keep Van Kessel out of the picture."

"What's she doing there? I thought she was on bereavement."

"Nope, she's back and if you think she had a bone up her ass before."

Susan sighed. "Oh lord, I understand. All right, do your best. It's going to take me about an hour, though." She clicked off and returned to the matters at hand. "Ok girls, so sorry for that. Anyway, I've got a better option for _the film._ I think this one beats the cutesy cartoon in the old one. You may have even seen this on PBS or the Discovery Channel. Anybody seen The Miracle of Life?"

There was a collective yes from the half dozen girls.

"Thought so. Ok, we're going to watch part of it today and then talk about it." She clicked on the DVD and settled amongst the girls; more like a trusted older friend than a teacher. Forty minutes of program and then discussion went by in a blur as Susan couldn't keep her mind completely off Paula's plea. Westchester Memorial didn't get many out of control Mutants. The last one she could recall was when Logan had been brought in after his motorcycle wreck.

She stopped by his office on her way but he wasn't there. She spotted him on the ice rink as she drove by and honked her horn. Slowing to a stop she hollered out "Something's up at the hospital. I'll see ya later."

He broke away from coaching and jogged over. "What's the deal?"

"Not sure yet. Paula called and said they've got a Mutant child who won't let anybody get near her."

"Ok. Umm you're not on duty; can't she handle it?"

"I don't know. She asked for my help."

"Susie, you're not supposed to be doin' anything strenuous."

"I'll be fine."

He snorted. "Yeah, well be careful, ok."

"Always am." She puckered her lips. "Gimme a kiss and I'll see you supper time."

As he jogged back to the ice rink she called "Your turn to cook." In reaction he threw his arms skyward and yelled back "Whatever."

All hell was breaking loose in the ER when she arrived. Hospital security and police stood poised though no weapons drawn and medical personnel were frantically moving patients into other areas. As Susan walked through the automatic doors; security demanded her identification and reason for being there and moments after that an announcement over a little used loudspeaker declared a lock-down. No one was coming in or leaving for the foreseeable future. At the center of the maelstrom was a petite, extraordinarily beautiful girl; maybe fifteen at most. No one could get within ten feet of her. Somehow she'd projected some sort of invisible barrier.

Susan managed to locate Paula. "What in heaven's name is going on?"

"Van Kessel tried to force her way and the kid freaked."

"I can see that."

"It was scary Sue. The kid---"

Susan interrupted, a tinge offrustration in her tone. "Does the _kid_ have a name?"

Paula sucked in her breath and thought for a second. "Wendy; I think that's what she said. Sue she never laid a hand on Van Kessel but somehow pushed her."

"Pushed her?"

"Yeah, one minute she was standing beside the kid and the next she was in heap on the other side of the room andnow know no one can get to her. It's like there's a glass partition between her and us."

"Leslie hurt?" Susan inquired.

"Not physically; but she's pissed and she's going off about dangerous Mutants."

"Thus the security detail" Susan extrapolated.

"I'm afraid I can't disagree. We're not too certain what else the girl might do."

"Any body from psych on this?"

"Soon as the on-call found out we were dealing with a Mutant the lock-down was declared."

"Paula, I gotta ask you; what do you think I'm going to be able to do? This seems pretty out of control."

"You've got a way with children like this, girlfriend. I hope you can talk to her; get her to lower her_ shields_."

"Good grief, we're not talking about a Star Trek episode here. This is a real-life, frightened child." Susan really was at a momentary loss. She held no real power over security. The reality was Van Kessel had the power to reduce or call off the security measures. The other reality was that neither woman saw eye to eye on much of anything and did their best to stay out of each other's way.

_Here goes nothin'_ Susan said to herself and sought out the security head. Fortunately the day shift security head had respect for her and was willing to cooperate, up to a point. After other patients were safe and out of the way he backed his team and the police away. With Leslie Van Kessel in radiology, having a few pictures taken just in case she'd been injured when the Mutant child 'pushed' her Susan had only a short time to make any inroads. She went as close as the invisible barrier would allow,pulled up a chair and sat.

Perched on the examination bed, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on bent knees, was a sprite of a girl who looked about as terrorized asSusan hadever seen. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were clearly tear-stained. It was clear that the girl probably didn't come from a poor background, evidenced by her appearance and she didn't have the hard or haunted look of a habitually abused child either. This is no Mutant monster; this was a truly frightened little girl.

"Hi" Susan said gently.

The girl made eye contact.

"I'm Doctor Sue. They tell me you're Wendy?"

The girl nodded.

"How old are you Wendy?"

"Fifteen."

Susan smiled. "I have a son who's fifteen."

The girl shrugged.

Susan struggled for questions to keep the girl engaged. "Do you live nearby?"

"White Plains" was her meek-voiced answer.

"Where do you go to school?"

"Saint Ursula's."

"Sophomore, I'll bet."

"Yes."

"Wendy is there anyone I can call to help you? Your mom or dad?"

She shook her head vigorously and fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

_Ok, there's a button not to push for the time being,_ Susan reckoned. "Wendy, I'd like to help, if I can."

"No one can help" she whimpered.

"Did someone hurt you?"

First she shook her head no and then very tentatively nodded yes.

"Can you tell me about it?"

Wendy shook her head no, broke eye contact and clutched her knees tighter.

_Oh God, I know where this is going_ Susan thought, the anguish painted on her face.

_How do I gain this baby's trust? _She took a deep breath. "I think I know what you're going through."

The girl looked back at Susan in surprise.

"It happened to me once." Inside Susan cringed. She hadn't admitted that to anyone in a very, very long time. She hadn't even shared it with Logan. God- cursed statistics are so very true. One in four females are sexually abused or assaulted at some point in their lives. "Wendy, it's very important that you let someone help you."

At that inopportune moment Leslie Van Kessel chose to burst upon the fragile calm Susan had created. "Just what do you think you're doing Doctor Harris? This isn't your patient."

Susan turned on her. "I'm trying to gain some trust here, doctor." She wanted to add; which is more than you certainly managed, but she didn't; fearful of complicating things even more. "Paula called me in to consult. Leslie, please give me a few minutes. I think I can get through to her."

Van Kessel stared coldly at Susan and then glanced just as hatefully at Wendy. "Be my guest . . ." she replied flippantly and then very quietly added with a sneer on her face ". . .Mutie lover."

Susan felt like slapping the woman but settled on silence for the time being. The focus needed to be caring for the girl. _You're starting a battle with me bitch that you won't win_ she thought as Van Kessel retreated down the corridor.

"You've got fifteen minutes" Van Kessel said over her shoulder.

Susan turned her attention back to Wendy.

"Doctor Sue, what'll she do?"

"I'm not sure. Wendy, if you would trust me, let me help you, I think I can keep her from doing anything."

"How?"

A slightly desperate plan formed in Susan's mind. "I have a friend, several actually; who are just like you. I can treat your injuries and my friends can keep you safe."

"I think I do trust you. I can feel this little tingle in my head when someone is honest and kind." That surprised Susan but she tried not to show it. Wendy added "I've let my wall down, you can come close."

As soon as Susan got to the girls' side security forces closed in again and Wendy re-established her wall, effectively trapping Susan with her.

"Dammit Leslie, what do you think you're doing? You promised fifteen minutes" Susan shouted.

"You still have your fifteen minutes. That should be just enough time for you to subdue the patient. By then a transport from Bellview should be here."

Wendy trembled "What's she talking about?"

"It's not going to happen" Susan reassured her. Bellview, New York City's infamous mental hospital had a special unit reserved for Mutants; usually those who may have only tested positive for the gene or had minor powers and were unfortunate enough to get caught up in an increasingly hostile and paranoid medical system. Over Susan's dead body would this little girl end up there. To Van Kessel Susan said "You can't in good conscience send this child to Bellview."

"I've got a responsibility to run this ER and this patient has disrupted everything for long enough. I can and I will transfer her to a facility that can effectively deal with her kind."

"Then let me take responsibility."

"She's not your patient."

Susan wasn't going to get into a pissing contest with Van Kessel. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed. "Patricia, this is Doctor Susan Harris. Is Doctor Burleson available?"

"Oh yes, doctor. Actually he's on his way down to you."

Susan closed her eyes and swallowed hard. This could be either very good or very bad. Doctor Burleson, the chief of staff seemed sympathetic to Mutant causes but Susan realized his responsibility to all patients and staff.

It wasn't long before a visibly distressed Burleson burst through the nearby elevator doors. He glared at Van Kessel and Susan. I want to speak with both of you now. Someone clear an exam room -now" he ordered to any one within range. Personnel jumped.

"Wendy" Susan spoke as calmly as possible "can you lower your defenses enough to let me out?"

The girl looked puzzled. "I don't know. I just figured out I could do this."

"Try. I've got to plead your situation."

Wendy did but when she put her barrier back, she misjudged a bit and sent Susan stumbling. Susan heard her call "I'm sorry" as she rushed off the fight with Van Kessel.

Doctor Burleson frowned. Then addressing the ER attending "What in the hell's going on here?"

Doctor Van Kessel took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and launched into her explanation.

Interrupting after a point, Burleson asked "Ok. Where does Doctor Harris fit into this?"

"Doctor Wellbourne called her in as a consult" Van Kessel replied in a scornful tone.

Burleson rolled his eyes. "Leslie, get Paula in here." He added "please" clearly as an afterthought. While Van Kessel searched for Paula, Burleson appealed to Susan for her side of things.

"Jack" Susan addressed him by his first name "I don't know first hand what precipitated this scene but I did manage to get close to the patient and believe I had a good chance of diffusing things."

Burleson kept a poker face but urged her to continue.

"Paula called me in as is_ supposed_ to be procedure in cases like this. From what I observed Leslie butted in."

"She _is _the attending" he defended.

"I understand that." Irritation was evident in her tone and posture. She struggled for professionalism. "Jack you know as well as I do where Leslie stands on Mutant issues-- "

Burlesone interrupted "Are you saying she's biased?"

Susan heaved a deep breath, struggling to keep on the high road. "I'm saying . . . she may have over-reacted."

"She was physically assaulted by the patient."

A bit too harshly she snapped "Any why_ was_ that?"

It was Burleson's turn to sighin frustration. "Sue, I've got to side with Leslie on the security in light of any possible threat--"

Susan slumped, expecting to be defeated

"--but I agree that she short changed you. If you can provide a reasonable alternative, I'll _suggest_ she call off the Bellview dogs"

Susan smiled. "Thank you Jack. Let me make a phone call and I'll have the situation solved." As she rang Xavier's School, Van Kessel and Paula appeared. As she spoke to Charles, she picked up bits of their conversation. She rejoined them as Burleson said "Thanks for your clarification Paula. One small favor though, could you provide a write-up ASAP?

Inwardly Paula cringed but didn't show it. "Tomorrow morning ok?"

"That'll do."

Van Kessel looked even more supercilious and then Burleson addressed her. "Leslie, I support the decision you made to maintain patient safety. You indeed followed protocols." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Considering what I've learned about the patient I'm allowing Susan continuity of care and disposition of the patient."

Van Kessel glared at Susan and immediately protested. "Xavier's School for the Gifted is not on our approved list of shelters or treatment facilities."

Burleson held his hand up. "Officially we don't have an approved or unapproved list; at least not until the new mandates take effect." He meant the full implementation of the Mutant Registration Act. Burleson continued. "In this case Bellview is not the solution."

"I don't agree Jack."

"I didn't think you would and you can express it in _your_ write-up."

Van Kessel pursed her lips, silently fuming. She'd clearly lost this round. "Indeed I shall" she snipped and cast Susan a glower that declared open warfare.

It was Susan's turn to smile and she had to work at not appearing too pleased. Keeping her voice calm and quiet she said "Jack, I've everything settled, including transportation. Do you mind if I go back to my patient?"

"_Please_ do."

To turn the screw just a little tighter Susan asked "Will _tonight_ be ok for_ my_ faxed report."

Susan's victorious feeling over winning this pissing contest was tempered by a nagging feeling that the fallout was going to be on the level of a fairly large thermo-nuclear device dumped right on her head. She just didn't know when. The unnatural silence as she and Wendy left the hospital headed for Xavier's School for the Gifted didn't do anything to derail the bad feeling.

Later that night, after Wendy Jennings was settled in with Marie and Jubilation Lee at School, Susan and Logan shared a late supper and the _news_ of the day. "So what about the new kid?" he asked between bites of pot roast and carrots. He'd gone home by the time she'd settled Wendy at School.

"You mean Wendy? Don't know all the details yet." She sighed. "She's amazingly forthcoming about some things; but when we press her about family or parents she clams up."

"So why doesn't Charles just go into her head?"

She frowned. "You know he won't do that unless it's a matter of life or death."

He nodded and thought _Yeah, stupid question._

Susan continued. "She seems like such a sweet, intelligent girl. Thank God she wasn't actually raped."

"For real! What's her powers?"

"So far telekinesis and maybe some telepathic abilities. From what she's told us, seems like she's just begun to manifest."

"Fifteen, right?"

Susan nodded.

"That'd be about normal."

She added "It's interesting, too. . ."

"What?"

"She appears to have some healing abilities."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement and amazement.

"When I checked her over for trauma the paramedics reported, there was little or no sign of it."

"Mistake on their part?"

"Highly unlikely."

After supper Susan typed out her report while Logan hovered between reading over her shoulder and cleaning up dinner dishes. After reading most of it he commented with pride. "Ya got bigger balls than most men I know."

"Bright Eyes, I know that's a high compliment, but can I get a re-phrase?"

"Sorry. I'm really proud of you. You did the only right thing. How'd you get the kid to trust you?"

She sighed and hugged him close as she could withher soccer ball sizedbelly between them. "I probably broke every counseling rule there is."

He looked at her questioningly.

"I told her I'd been through what she'd been through."

In the space of a few seconds his face expressed shock, rage and finally a look of empathetic torment. "What?" he whispered. Finding his voice "Oh my God!. Baby, you never told me." Anger returned "Who? I'll fuckin' kill…."

Susan put her fingers to his lips. "Bright Eyes, it was a long time ago. Please calm down."

The memory of when he'd been assaulted as a teenager flashed through his mind. Struggling to put the memory and the beast within back, hetook her hand in his and kissed it. Looking for a second like he might actually cry he murmured "I'm so sorry" and then pulled her closer. "I love you."

Hurting from her own memories and wanting very much to lighten the mood she chided. "Somebody better. Love you too, Bright Eyes."

Two a.m. and Logan stirred awake by the sound of her voice. "Hmmm?" he drowsily.

Her unintelligible mumbles were punctuated by "No! Don't! Stop it! You're hurting me!"

He quickly became fully alert and switched on the bedside lamp to witness her curled around her pillow gripping it as if it were a life preserver crying tears into it.

_Holy shit! She's havin' a nightmare. _"Darlin'" he murmured tenderly as he reached for her. The moment she felt his touch she lashed out and struck him square in the mouth, her ring splitting his upper lip. "Oww" he gasped none too quietly and retreated. _Damn, she's gotta a good hook there_ he thought wiping coppery-salty tasting blood on the back of his hand. In moments his lip healed leaving only a slightly puffy, stinging sensation as he ran his tongue over it.

He reached for her again, this time prepared to take evasive action but it wasn't necessary. Still crying, she woke suddenly and didn't seem to know where she was. "Susie? It's ok darlin'." Kneeling on the bed beside her he gently massaged her back.

"Logan" she whimpered and then collapsed against him, sobbing anew.

He cradled her gently in his arms and murmured words of comfort and love until the storm abated. "Ssssh. It's ok. I'm right here. You're safe." After a time when he felt some of the tension release from her he asked "Wanna tell me about it?"

Nuzzled against his bare chest, she shook her head. He wouldn't take no for an answer and gently lifted her face to gaze into hers. "Talk to me darlin'."

Almost too quickly for Logan to absorb her story spilled forth in a jumble of half phrases. It happened during her first year in medical school. She'd been studying with a classmate. He probably drugged her Coke. She woke up on his couch sometime in the late morning, nude from the waist down; bruised and used. He had gone and there was no doubt in her mind what had taken place.

Icy anguish crept up Logan's spine and settled in the center of his chest. He hurt for her. He could only hold her as she wept yet again. When she told him she suddenly didn't feel well, he helped her to the bathroom and kept her hair from getting in the way andmurmured words of comfortas she was sick. Later, he settled her back to bed and held her tenderly until she fell asleep; himself unable to do the same.


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

Saturday evening and Logan, Susan, several neighbors, including Victor and Linda Creed were standing off to the side making small talk and watching a gaggle of children being entertained by a neighbor dressed up as Santa. The women were having a wonderful time watching and commenting on the children's reactions. Some of the men, Logan and Creed, in particular, were suffering from 'terminal-cute' overload.

Logan thought he'd edge away, top off his drink and get some fresh air. The neighborhood party wasn't too hard to take but it was crowded and too warm for his comfort. Creed sensed what he was up to and followed.

"Something on your mind?" he asked Creed, tension in his voice. He really wanted a few minutes to himself and if he had to share with anyone, he sure as heck didn't want it to be Creed.

"Yeah." Creed answered straightforwardly. He looked around, scanning for other people. When he was certain the two of them were alone, or at least out of earshot of normal hearing, he spoke in low tone that only Logan could hear.

"An old acquaintance looked me up recently."

He glanced at Creed with a look of puzzlement and concern.

"Remember Stanislaw Ruchinsky?"

Logan shook his head.

"Yer mind's like Swiss cheese, ain't it?" Creed remarked. "Come on Runt, the personal ass-wipe of the Director."

"Oh shit!" Logan exclaimed more loudly than he probably should have. He didn't exactly remember the name, but knew what Creed was talking about. "What's the deal?"

"Not sure. What Ruchinsky said don't match up with the usual methods. Ya know as well as I do he _don't_ ask."

Logan nodded in agreement.

"Didn't say much, but the weird part was an offer of a shit load of dough for me and anybody I brought along."

Logan felt cold fear creep up his spine. The possibility of the Director, alive and well; trying to reactivate operatives or even bring in fresh recruits was something he didn't want to contemplate.

"Creed, he thinks I'm dead. You didn't give….."

"No he don't," Creed cut in on the question "least he ain't sure. There's a reward offered for info on ya."

Logan growled deeply "Suppose yer lookin' to collect?"

Creed smirked "Crossed my mind."

"Fuck you!" Logan hissed. "I guarantee ya won't live to deliver any news."

"Relax Runt! Neutral territory 'round here." He paused forcing Logan to ruminate in uncertainty. "I got a feelin' somethin' big's goin' down and ya better cover yer ass."

Logan put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. "I follow." Somberly he asked, "What _did_ ya tell 'im?"

"Told 'im I'd think about it."

Logan snorted "Bet that went over real well."

"Oh yeah." Creed said sarcastically "Ruchinsky said I better think fast cuz he was makin' one offer before everybody'd be back on board anyway." In organization-speak, that meant you're either with them or you're terminated.

"What are ya gonna do?" Logan inquired.

"Fer now, nothin'" Creed declared firmly. "Got plenty of legit stuff keepin' me busy."

Logan glanced questioningly at him.

"Yeah, believe it or don't." Creed answered "Part of my deal with the Feds when they sprung me."

"You? The Feds?" Logan didn't speak it as much as mouthed it. "One of those deals where if ya tell me ya hafta kill me?" he chuckled.

"Sometimes yer smarter than ya look." Creed teased then became serious, "Think yer Professor Xavier needs to know 'bout this?"

"Yeah, I do" Logan answered with conviction then lost himself in contemplation for a long moment. "Jesus, there are so many bad angles to this….."

Their conversation was interrupted by Linda looking for her husband. "There you two are" she said cheerily. "Victor, come back inside, I want you to meet some of our other neighbors."

Victor shrugged and lumbered across the patio toward his wife. Very quietly, so that only Logan could hear, "No shit!" was his reply. "Talk later?"

Logan gave the slightest nod of agreement and followed along behind. Suddenly he didn't feel much like partying. It was time to find Susie and go home for the night.

Susan was surprised when Logan indicated his seemingly sudden desire to go home. It was still early. During the short walk back to the house, she noticed he seemed wound up like a spring and unusually quiet. She asked if anything was wrong and he responded with an ambiguous grunt.

"There aren't any copies of the Alkali Lake discs around, are there?" he quietly asked settling into bed.

Unsuccessfully stifling a yawn, she answered "Nope, everything's locked up below ground at School. Why?"

He reached across, pulled her close and before pressing a kiss into her forehead murmured "Don't worry about it."

She didn't until a few hours later when it became obvious he was tormented by a nightmare. His breathing sped up; he mumbled unintelligibly and began to toss about the bed. He hadn't had a badone in months as far as she knew, so she didn't think too much of it. She slid over and gave him more space but that strategy quickly proved useless as he continued to become more agitated, thrashing about, moaning and crying out; drenched in perspiration. She switched on the light, hoping to awaken him. The tortured, pained look on his face frightened her. Noticing the bluish tinge beneath his knuckles, she realized he was seconds away from ejecting his claws.

She'd never seen him this bad but remembered his warning from so many months ago when they'd first got to know each other. Quickly vacating the bed, she moved off to the side, all the while speaking his name in effort to wake him. It was a wise move on her part because moments later, he screamed, bolted upright and violently ejected all six claws, stabbing into empty space at a threat only he could sense. She couldn't help but shriek in shock and fear at the sight of him.

Wild-eyed and out of control, he seemed insane. The combination of her shriek and probably the pain from ejecting his claws snapped him awake and back to the here and now. He glanced around, disoriented and then realized what he'd done. "Oh my God!" he exclaimedgaping in horror at his claws; a thin trickle of blood snaking down his arms. His senses momentarily confused, he called out "Susie, where are you? Are you ok?"

"I'm here Bright Eyes. I'm fine" Gambling that he was in control of himself, Susan gingerly approached and sat next to him. "Everything's ok." She made her voice as calm and soothing as she could and reached for him. "Talk to me Logan."

He flinched from her touch, left the bed and went to the bathroom. Still sweating, trembling, breathing hard and feeling nauseous, he filled the sink with cold water and dunked his head. A few minutes later, calmed, he came back to bed. He tossed the towel he used to dry off into the corner.

"Want to talk about it?" she gently prodded.

He shook his head and barked "No!" then softening…."I mean, I can't. Not right now."

She threw him a skeptical glare. "Logan_ something_ happened tonight, at the party I think. Who said or did what that has you so upset?"

He looked away unwilling to talk about what Creed had warned about, at least not with her. She didn't need the worry.

"Creed said something, didn't he?" she intuited.

"Susie, it's nothin'. Everything's under control." He tried to sound reassuring, but it came out harsh. He realized it by the way she shrunk back. Sighing deeply, he changed his tone. "Ok. Yeah, Creed did say something. But, I can't talk about it right now….I mean, at least not until I know more."

"Logan, you're not telling me a dog-gone thing."

"I know, baby. Sorry. You gotta trust me on this; please"

"Why do I feel scared, Logan?"

He took her in his arms, drawing her close to his chest. "Hey, there's nothin' to be scared of." He just lied and felt like a jerk. .

She wanted to believe him completely. She didn't quite, but intuition told her to drop it for now. "Promise me you won't go it alone if you don't have to."

"That I can promise." He hugged her reassuringly. "Listen babe, I'm going to bunk on the sleep sofa for the rest of the night. I_ can't_ promise I won't have more nightmares." She protested but he shushed her promising that he'd have things and himself sorted out and under control by the next day.

Before that could happen, he needed to talk with Creed in more detail. He wanted as many facts as possible. Then, he wanted Creed's gut feeling. A not-too-small part of him distrusted Creed and with good reason. They'd been on opposing sides more than once and even when they had been allied, it was an uneasy alliance at best. Even though he couldn't detect any deceit from Creed, the possibility of an elaborate set-up couldn't be dismissed. Could Creed be a knowing participant or just a pawn- piece in a larger plan; and whose plan? Creed working with the Feds? That angle made little sense.

Early the next day, before Susan even awoke for church, Logan and Creed met at the neighborhood Starbucks. They sat in the vacant outdoor area because was too cold for anybody else to want to be there. After hashing over all the known facts and comparing what their instincts told them, it was decided that it definitely would be prudent for Charles to be briefed immediately.

That very afternoon a secret meeting with Charles was quickly arranged at an out of the way, neutral site as neither X-Man completely trusted Creed and to minimize the risk of the three of them being seen together. Charles perused Creed's mind and to his great surprise, confirmed that he was being completely open and currently had no hidden affiliations or agenda. After hearing what he had to say Charles concurred the situation seemed potentially ominous. Still reeling from grossly miscalculating the danger that Stryker had posed more than a year ago; he would do everything in his power to prevent a crisis like that from again visiting his School.

After Creed left, Charles talked with Logan at great length about what more he remembered about Weapons X and how deeply he'd been involved with the inner workings of The Joint U.S./Canadian Anti-Mutant Terrorism Defense Force.

Logan's days of power had been concentrated in the time just before it had completely strayed from its original mission; that was to form an elite group to combat terrorist mutants. The Director, whose identity was known only to a few, Logan among them, had not so quietly seized control and self-serving maniacs like Ruchinsky, Peabody and Stryker allied themselves with the Director facilitating the new agenda to use super-mutants to control mutants and/or exterminate uncontrollables and undesirables. Initially entrenched with the upper echelon, Logan eventually tried to bail out but was too valuable both in knowledge and powers to be allowed to go. Each of the controlling powers planned on manipulating and using every bit ofhim for their own purposes. Logan, along with his primary function of spy/assassin, became the prized lab rat and potential 'golden egg' to various sub-projects.

Logan told Charles that Ruchinsky's particular field of expertise had been in what had been called Replications, another way to say cloning. Originally housed at Alkali Lake it had expanded beyond the facility and relocated to a locationhe couldn't recall. Charles searched his mind revealing nothing useful.

Logan did remembered, thanks to his nightmare the night before, that Ruchinsky had been one of his main tormentors and subjected him to some of the most torturous experimentation in the name of finding out just what he could survive.

When he'd gone berserk that day at Alkali Lake almost eighteen years ago he had destroyed a significant chunk of it and thought he killed a significant number of higher ups. Apparently this wasn't the case. "Charles, I might be an obstacle to the safety of the kids. We gotta assume _somebody_ knows about me . . ."

Charles nodded.

Logan ran his hand through his hair; his face pinched with conflicted emotion. "Christ, I don't wanna go here" he muttered.

"Logan, stop right there!" Charles heard his thoughts before he spoke. "The Team takes care of their own and you're one of us. Last year the threat was because of Cerebro and my abilities. Now, it's something from your past. Down the road it's a safe wager that something else related to someone else will pose a threat. We _must_ stand together."

He was grateful beyond expression for Charles' support but didn't quite agree with standing united no matter what. He believed the safety of the many outweigh the safety of the one.

Before he could articulate, Charles interrupted. "Again I don't agree. But sentiments aside, _you_ with your knowledge and expertise regarding this potential threat is our best defense. With your background you understand that in your gut."

He couldn't argue against Charles' logic. "I'm guessin' we're gonna be steppin' up security and the training program, eh?"

Just after lunch Monday afternoon, Susan heard him before she caught sight of him. He stomped down the corridor, growling and cursing a blue streak. She stuck her head out of the coffee room door. She almost slipped and said Bright Eyes. "Logan, what's a matter?"

"That meeting; it was with two cops" he snarled.

She looked mildly surprised. "What? Come on down to my office."

"Some damn detectives want to know all about my association with Howard Lippincott!" he explained slamming the door behind him.

She stared at him, thoroughly puzzled. Lippincott died undergoing coronary bypass surgery just about a week ago. "Weird! Why? Did they say?"

"Wanted to know all about the last time" Logan modified his tone mimicking his interrogator "I was in the company of Doctor Lippincott."

Concern crossed her face. "What did you tell him?"

"Told 'im none of his fuckin' business!"

"Oh Logan, you didn't?"

"Nah. Told him I was at the same party…"

She interrupted "You didn't tell him what happened?"

"Hell no! Ain't stupid. They weren't real specific, so I answered the exact questions; no more, no less."

"How'd that go over?"

"Like a lead balloon. Then they said. . ." again he mimicked "you'd be advised not to leave town any time soon." He exhaled and then immediately tensed again. "Somebody's on a fishin expedition and I just wish they'd cut bait and say what the fuck they're lookin' for."

"They actually told you not to leave town? Logan, did they make any type of accusation?"

"Nah. But I could sense a whole lotta shit comin' off 'em."

"Hon, can you be a little more specific?"

"They're hounds and they're lookin' for a fox."

"That tells me a whole bunch" she commented in exasperation. "Well realistically there's probably no reason to jump to any conclusions and start freaking out. If some one raised any concern about the circumstances of Lippincott's demise; no matter how far fetched, the law's obligated to follow up."

"They guy died in surgery, right?"

Susan nodded.

"And they wanna pin something on me? Where's the logic?"

"As I said hon, no matter how far fetched."

"Fuck that! It's because I'm Mutant."

She looked like she might cry for a moment. "That sadly, may have a lot to do with it."

"Think I need an attorney?"

"Not unless they actually haul you downtown for questioning. But it can't hurt if we do a little fishing around on our own and find out who's behind this. Let me make a few phone calls."

"You can do that?"

"Umm, I can try. Legal's not my specialty but I've got a few connections and if I don't Charles does."

"Aww babe, I don't wanna get him involved."

"Logan, you think he didn't sense it while it was going on?"

"Shit! Yeah."

"Quit trying to be so damned independent, will ya Bright Eyes."

He gave her a hug. "Only for you, darlin'."

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

"Tell me again why this was a stupid idea" he muttered to no one save for the porcelain alter he'd been worshipping for the last thirty minutes. He leaned over and heaved again...and again... and again. _Three more reasons,_ he thought leaning back bathed in fetid alcoholic sweat. He offended himself! His gut burned.Absinthe went down smooth but felt like turpentine and jalapenos coming back. Wait! It was jalapenos coming back; he'd eaten loaded Nachos for dinner. _There's two more reasons. Note to self: no fuckin' Mexican food when yer plannin' on partyin' til ya puke. Blowing refried beans through sinuses hurts like a bitch; almost as much as the drum line practicin' in my head. _

It had been the shittiest week he had since; well in quite a while; one fucking disaster after another! He ticked them off in his mind. There was the shit with remnants of Weapons X threatening to rear is ugly mug. How 'bout the Lippincott mess? Any one of those things had the potential to grow into a tidal wave.

The thing that pushed him over the edge, into this exquisitely stupid binge and subsequent high praise to porcelain, was a mere slip of a teenaged girl: Wendy Jennings. His past, a part of it he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried; came back and sucker punched him.

Yesterday afternoon he'd been painting the second floor hallway when the Three Musketeers, Marie, Kitty and Jubilee had torn down the hall shouting for anybody's help.

"Whoa! Hold up ladies. What's the emergency" he asked from a ladder.

Three frantic voices answered at once. "It's Wendy----the new kid----She's freakin' out!"

He hopped down. "Wait a sec. One at a time" He looked directly at Marie.

She took the hint and answered. "She said she had a headache and then a few minutes later she started pukin' and the next thing we knew stuff's flyin' all over the room. Ya gotta help Logan. We don't know what to do."

He was on the move toward Wendy's room before Marie finished explaining. Not a hundred percent certain what the problem was; but it sounded like out of control new powers. Happens to some kids when they begin to manifest them.

Wendy had managed to turn her room into something resembling a minor disaster. Clothes strewn all over the place; small items of furniture and lamps overturned; books and papers dumped off the desk and shelves. Logan went in prepared to dodge flying objects. At the moment all was calm. "Hey kid" he called.

The Three Musketeers peered from the doorway. "She's in the bathroom" Jubilee volunteered.

_Of course, teenagers in crisis and bathrooms go together like teenagers and the Mall he tho_ught. He strode across the room and knocked on the door. "Hey, umm kid. Umm Wendy, you ok?"

"I dunno" came a timid voice.

"You decent? Can I come in?"

"Who are you?"

"Logan."

Silence

"He's Doctor Sue's husband" Marie called out.

The door opened a few inches. Logan peered into the darkened room. Wendy sat curled up in the middle of the floor. The room was as much of a mess as the bedroom.

Crouching down to get at her eye level he gently asked "What can I do to help?"

She peered at him sensing with her mind good intentions. Timidly she held out her hand "I'm scared" and she began to cry.

Logan reached toward her but an instant later found himself across the room flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. A wide-eyed, horror- stricken Wendy stood and wailed even louder. "I'm so sorry. I can't control it sometimes."

The Three Musketeers stood by equally stunned.

Logan propped himself up on elbows recovering his breath. "It's ok, kid. That some push ya got there. Never saw it comin'." He stood, shook out the kinks and approached the girl again. "How 'bout we go down to the med lab and let Doc McCoy take a look at ya."

Wendy frowned. "Where's Doctor Sue?"

"She works at the hospital today."

"Oh! I think I'd rather wait for Doctor Sue."

Logan smelled strong fear and the underlying headache on her. "Wendy, I think ya need to get looked at. How 'bout the girl's come along?"

"If I just wait a few minutes it goes away; it always does."

Trying to figure out what to do next, he inhaled deeply. Immediately he sensed something- something intimately familiar. Doubting his senses he moved closer. Suddenly he felt confused. Backing away seemed like a good idea but he couldn't make himself do it.

In her mind, Wendy felt his confusion. She could do that. Joy gave her the physical sensation of floating on clouds. Irritation felt like needle pricks all over her body. Anger coming from someone could make her physically sick. Confusion made her feel tingly- like her limbs had fallen asleep.

His confusion gave way to astonishment, which in turn did nothing to calm Wendy's trepidation. They stood motionless, simply staring each other down; she trying to understand the root of his emotions. She wasn't in control of her powers enough to use them effectively or she'd have known exactly why he was suddenly completely off balance. He was uncharacteristically at a total loss for words or action.

It was Charles who'd sensed the upheaval and made his way from the lift to the upper floors that broke the stalemate. Addressing the Three Musketeers "Ladies, a moment please." Marie, Kitty and Jubilee made themselves scarce. "Logan, I'd be glad to take over from here, if you'd like."

That sounded like the perfect option to him. "All yours" he answered and backed away."Sorry kid, didn't mean to scare ya" he said to Wendy before turning away in retreat. In his mind he heard _I'd like to speak privately with you later_ and he responded by waving Charles off.

Down the stairs, two steps at a time, fast pace along the corridor and out through the kitchen Logan mind was an uncertain jumble of emotions and speculation.

"Como estas, amigo?" Vic Marquez called out from partway under the kitchen sink as he'd caught a glimpse of Logan go by.

Logan paused, turned and strode closer to Vic. "Just peachy" he answered acerbically.

Vic slid out from under the sink. "You look like you seen a ghost."

_You don't know the half of it_ he thought and then answered. "Weird day, ya know?"

"Don't know about the weird part; but it ain't been one my better ones. How 'bout some dinner and a few Tecate's?"

"Make it tequila and I'll even buy" Logan answered with a slight grin.

Neither men spoke of anything significant until they'd eaten and slung back a few shots.

Logan finally broke the silence. "So what's your sad tale?"

"Ay yi yi! Well there's that kitchen sink you saw me under earlier and then the jet's got a computer glitch and then Electra's been bitching at me about some things she wants done around the house before she gets back."

Logan nodded and wished to himself for such simple problems.

"What had you looking so spooked?" Vic inquired.

Logan gestured dismissively. "You know, just too much shit goin' on. Got some cops trying to shove a scope up my ass over some guy keeling over from a heart attack; got this thing with Weapons X or whatever the fuck they call 'emselves lately and now this--" He was about to let his suspicions about Wendy be known but thought better. "--well you get what I'm talkin' about."

Vic grinned sardonically. "It's a wonderful life, si?"

Logan belted back another shot of tequila. "Good as it gets" was his equally cynical reply. "I want somethin' with Weapons X to break loose. Holdin' pattern's got me kinda itchy."

"Yeah. This is a deal where no news is bad news" Vic agreed.

"Feels like were on the wrong side of a chess match. With them ya gotta go on the attack. Trouble is, don't know who to hit yet."

"You think Creed's gonna come through with useful intelligence?"

"Yeah."

'What's the deal with the cops?"

Logan snorted. "Mutant witch hunt."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I punched a guy out at Susan's hospital Christmas party and then he has a coronary later that night. Then to top it off he goes and dies during bypass surgery. They're trying to pin it on me!"

Vic laughed. "Yeah right! Who came up with that screwed up notion?"

"Don't know yet; but when I find out I'm gonna straighten 'em out real quick. Fuckin' cops even made Charles vouch for me that I wouldn't skip town. Practically have to take 'em along when we go to Canada after Christmas." Logan glanced at his watch and then motioned for the waitress. "Check, please" and then spoke to Vic "Hate to break this party up but Susie's gonna call."

"Ee-yep, Electra'll probably do the same. What's the conference they're at all about?"

Logan shrugged and smirked. "ADD or something. What the hell's ADD?"

"Attention Deficit Disorder" Vic answered smugly.

"Well ain't you the smart one."

Vic casually saluted. "Vamanos, amigo."

Logan made it back to the house in time to catch Susan leaving a voice mail. He grabbed the receiver. "Hey, I'm here."

"Oh good. Where ya been?"

"Supper—with Vic. How's the conference?"

"Dry. Guess what?"

"Huh?"

"I got a chance to make a few calls today. Found out who's behind the Lippincott investigation. Care to speculate?"

"Santa Claus" he answered sarcastically,impatient withriddles. "Look babe, it's been a shitty day; ain't in the mood for twenty questions" he snapped.

"Oh, sorry. What's happened?"

"Just tell me who's behind the investigation."

She sighed into the phone. "Leslie Van Kessel."

"What's her ax to grind?"

"Honestly, I think it might have more to do with me than you."

"How ya figure?"

"Pay back for last week. Wendy, remember?"

"Aw shit---speakin' of Wendy; met her today."

"Isn't she a sweetheart?"

He was stone silent.

"Logan you still there?"

Quietly he answered "Yeah."

"What's a matter?"

"What do you know about the kid?" he asked trying to sound nonchalant.

"Not too much more than when I first talked with her."

"Anybody find out where she came from?"

"Charles is working on that. Why?"

For a split second he almost told her about the encounter with Wendy. "Nah! Nothin' darlin'. Listen, gotta a load of paperwork. Talk to ya tomorrow?"

"You never told me why you had a bad day."

"Forget it. It'll still be there tomorrow."

"You're the ultimate optimist, you know that Bright Eyes?"

"Just call me the friggin' Happiness Fairy."

She laughed. "Happy dust's in the pantry, lover."

"Makes me sneeze" he replied grateful for her sense of humor. "Love ya, darlin'."

"Me too. Call ya tomorrow night. Bye."

He clicked off the phone and then proceeded to mentally kick himself. _Shoulda said something about Wendy. No, gotta wait and talk about it face to face. _He paced around the silent house finally taking the time to really contemplate the situation. _Shit, shoulda expected somthin' like this. Why the fuck did it have to come right to my doorstep? Ain't no it, ya callous bastard. **It** is a kid-**my** kid!_ He felt a mix of emotions ranging from panic to pride. _What in the bloody hell am I gonna do 'bout it? _

He went to the liquor cabinet and rummaged coming up with a bottle of absinthe. He took a swallow, grimacing at its bitterness and then relishing the nearly instantaneous kick. _Ok, idiot where the hell were ya a little over fifteen years ago? Still tryin' to unscramble yer brain in the wilderness, that's where. _He ambled into the music room, set down the bottle and picked up his guitar. Strong drink and a few tunes usually helped put things in perspective. _So if this kids mine- what the hell, ain't no** if**; she's mine-- who's her mom? Think, stupid! _

About the time Wendy would have been conceivedhe'd just recovered some of his humanity and had actually found a job and a place to hole-up. Lumberjacking in the Pacific Northwest had been perfect because it offerednecessary solitude most of the time. There had been a small village nearby and an Indian Reservation. When he sought out companionship it had been with the native population. Somehow he was just more comfortable there but he couldn't place any particular woman. Wendy didn't look native, either. That didn't mean he hadn't had any encounters with other women. He just couldn't remember. Once he got into the cage fighting circuit, there were lots of women. But Wendy was too old in that case.

He took a deep drag of absinthe, downing nearly half and gasped aloud. He could feel his stomach lining burn. "Good shit" he said out loud. Then he leaned back in the chair and felt an acceptable buzz. "Ya know what Logan, old man?" he said aloud to himself. "It's been a fucker of a week and it ain't even hump day!" He held up the bottle, admiring it. "Being of not-so-sound mind, it's a good night to get shit-faced and I think absinthe just might do it." He polished off the remainder and went looking for more. His lucky night, there was another bottle. The only way to make it luckier was if Susie was there. He drank the next bottle with a shot glass ceremoniously toasting all the women he could and couldn't remember. The final toast to his wife was followed with a silent prayer that she wouldn't kick his ass from here to kingdom come over this whole mess.

When he drained the last of it, he laid his head against the chair back and closed his eyes. That was a mistake. The room seemed to spin and he felt like he was going to fall off the chair. He belched "Aww hey; ain't had a--- buzz like this--- since---shit, don't remember." Nature called and he struggled up and staggered to the bathroom. "Man-- I'm really--" he hiccupped "--fucked up." He went into the bedroom and belly flopped across the bed. "Better enjoy it, bub cuz it ain't gonna last much longer" and then he passed out. It wasn't quite an hour when he woke up with a sense of urgency. What he put in was coming back-- right now. Hand clamped over his mouth, he raced for the bathroom.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

Healing factors are a great thing. Without it he'd be one hurtin' puppy the following morning. The only residual was an obnoxious case of cotton mouth and a sour stomach. He was surprised by how much the absinthe actually affected him. Residual from the Mutant Flu? Unlikely, but might ask Hank about it. Certainly not asking Susie; she'd laugh and then give him hell about it. As it was, the after- effects bid a hasty and final retreat after a good breakfast of coffee and steak and eggs at the local IHOP. The cigar he inhaled while driving to Xavier's School completed the cure.

Late in the afternoon Logan found himself back up the ladder trying to finish painting the hallway begun the day before. Classes had just dismissed for the Christmas Holiday and boisterous, glad voices rang through the mansion as kids scattered in all directions. His attention was drawn to a particular conversation. The Three Musketeers plus one, traveling in a pack chattered up a streak as they made their way down the hall.

"What I wanna know is how you figured out Mr. Summers' math puzzler?" Kitty complained to Wendy.

"Yeah" chimed in Jubilee "We've been trying to get it for a week."

Wendy Jennings smiled coyly. "It's simple; I'm telepathic."

"Oh that is so cheating!" Marie interjected.

Logan observed Wendy shrug in an eerily familiar way and he must have projected a thought because she glanced uneasily at him as she passed by. The girls, except Wendy greeted him as they moseyed by. He heard Wendy whisper "He's kinda weird."

Partially closing the door the shared bedroom Marie defended "Not really, once you get to know him"

Easily overhearing the girls he thought, _Damn Marie, appreciate ya stickin up for me; but_ _don't hose my rep._

Flopping themselves on various pieces of furniture and bedding, Kitty grabbed a box of cookies and passed them around. "So whatcha think of our school?"

"Pretty cool" Wendy answered. "I'm hoping I can stay here."

He sighed hearing Wendy's hope_. Fuck! So much for that problem goin' away._

"That'd be awesome" Jubilee added. "We could use a telepathic friend for those hard math test questions."

Wendy grinned.

"Yeah and get caught using your powers to cheat" Marie cautioned "and you get to have a discipline session with Mr. Summers."

Wendy smiled broadly. "I could think of worse things."

They all giggled.

Changing the subject Jubilee suggested "Ok, so let's rate the guys. Guess we know who Wendy's hot over"

_Oh geez, maybe she ain't my kid. Got the hots for Summers? Gonna hafta set the kid straight. _

Embarrassed Wendy retorted "Shut up, am not! Besides, you're thinking Wolverine's the hottest guy on the planet, _who ever_ that is."

He chuckled aloud and arrogantly thought _Give that kid an A-plus_.

Jubilee turned several shades of scarlet and all three girls shushed her. "He's right out there."

"You mean that guy Logan? Why do you call him Wolverine?"

"She's not supposed to" Kitty interjected.

"Well I don't Miss Perfect" Jubilee snipped back. "Kitty's always tryin' to make sure everybody follows the rules."

"Wolverine's kinda like, um; his codename" Marie explained.

Hearing Marie, he thought _Good backstroke._

"Oh, he's a spy" Wendy answered.

Marie looked stunned. "I didn't say that."

"You thought it."

Marie berated "It's not right to go lookin' in somebody's head without permission."

_Hell, Marie shouldn't know that; must be still carryin' somma me in 'er head. Wonder if I can show 'er how to block?_

Wendy looked defiant then backed down. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that sometimes I can't help it." Again the subject changed as she asked "So what powers do you guys have?"

Kitty stood up pulling Wendy with her. "Stand still" she commanded and then proceeded to walk right through her.

"That's intense" Wendy said after recovering her breath. "Can you do it through anything?"

Kitty demonstrated again by going through the wall between the bedroom and bath. "Anything" she emphasized sticking her head around the door.

"Yeah, but it don't do her no good" Jubilee huffed and then sent bursts of multi-colored energy orbs dancing along the floor.

"Doesn't do me any good? Who got captured by Styker? Not me, that's for sure."

Jubilation Lee shot her 'friend' the bird.

Wendy and Marie both jumped out of the way as multi-hued fireballs danced around the floor. "Quit, will ya Jubes" Marie ordered. "Yer gonna catch something on fire again."

Realizing what the girls were up to, especially Jubilee and her energy bursts, Logan jumped down from the ladder. He didn't usually get on the kids about using their powers; even the rule that powers were to be used appropriately; but Jubilee had a reputation for going overboard and he really didn't want the extra work involved if the kid actually caught the place on fire. "Ladies, maybe ya oughtta do somethin' else, eh?"

Dead silence was followed by reluctant 'yes sirs'. It wasn't too long before they were chattering again. Jubilee asked "Wendy, what happened the other day when all that stuff went flyin' around in here?"

It was Wendy's turn to look embarrassed. "Oh my gosh; it's just too weird. I can make things move when I think about them and sometimes when I get headaches it's like every thing goes whacko."

Still eavesdropping, Logan could vaguely relate to some of Wendy's experiences. The first couple of times his feral side took over the feelings were paralyzingly terrifying and physically debilitating. _God help her, I hope she ain't gonna go feral_.

"You can only do it when you gotta a headache?"

"Course not. Watch." Wendy levitated the box of cookies out of Kitty's grasp.

Jubilee laughed uproariously and then got a sly look on her face. "Wendy, read my mind."

She did and moments later grinned wickedly. "I don't know if I can do this without looking. Never tried it that way before."

"What?" both Kitty and Marie asked.

"Sshh" Jubilee warned "You can't say it or he'll hear ya. Can you send a thought to them?"

"I don't know. I don't think I ever tried that either." Wendy couldn't project the thought but opted for a more basic form of communication. Motioning for silence and to follow the foursome crept to the door.

Logan had moved the ladder a further distance and faced the opposite direction. While he could have been aware of everything going on; he'd gone lost in thoughts of his current short list of problems.

Wendy reached out with her mind and while she felt a hodgepodge of troubled emotions she couldn't read his mind. _This dude gets weirder by the minute_, she thought but then shrugged off her worries, more interested in showing off for her new-found friends. Concentrating on the paint cloth he had tucked into his back pocket, ever-so-gently and agonizing slowly with her mind she slipped the cloth out of his pocket. The girls held their breath expecting him to sense it at any moment. When the cloth dropped almost silently to the floor; they fell back into the room laughing.

Logan heard the rag hit the floor and girls' raucous laughter but didn't put one and one together. He retrieved it, tucked it more firmly into his pocket, climbed the ladder and continued.

Wendy repeated her trick and this time he felt it. In a split second he put one and one together. _I'll be damned, those little vixens! _he thought. _Time for a little fun. _Just as the cloth hit a ladder rung he turned, scowled his best death scowl, pointed and index finger and rumbled "Ain't nice to mess with the Wolverine." Very slowly he ejected his claws on one hand.

All four gasped, jumped back and Wendy slammed the door. Wide eyed and verging on shielding she stammered "Oh my god! What is that?"

Suddenly the door burst open. He'd sheathed the claws but snarled like an angry bear revealing his larger than normal canine teeth. Kitty looked like she might cry while Jubilee copped a belligerent pose trying to mask her fright. Marie just shook her head; knowing him well enough not to be afraid and Wendy threw a shield around them all effectively stopping him from getting any closer.

He felt the energy from her shield and froze; content to simply glare menacingly at them. The standoff lasted just a moment longer before Wendy sensed that he wasn't the least bit angry. He was messing with them and doing all he could to keep from laughing. She dropped her shield and as soon as he sensed it he turned on his heel and stomped away. If he hadn't he'd have laughed, effectively rendering the intimidation factor moot.

When they thought it was safe four teenaged girls peered around the door frame. He expected it and from his perch on the ladder glanced over his shoulder at them.

'What's he thinking?" Jubilee whispered to Wendy.

"I don't know, I can't tell" she hissed back.

Taking control of the situation, Marie queried "Yer not really mad, are ya Logan?"

He turned, leaned into the ladder, crossed his arms over his chest, dipped his head and stared at them; his brow furrowed and lips pursed. He kept it up just long enough to prolong their uncertainty.

A quartet of 'we're sorry' forced him to relent.

Finally he grinned and replied "Nah, but don't do it again." There was collective sigh of relief and then Kitty asked timidly "You want some cookies?"

He knew a peace offering when he heard one. "Sure" he replied and hopped down. "You're not supposed to have these in your rooms" he scolded stuffing a handful in his mouth.

"Just like y'ain't supposed to have Jack Daniels in yer room, huh Logan?" Marie shot back.

"Oh, whoa! Not the same category, kid; and besides I don't live here anymore." He glanced at her sideways and added "If your gonna start tellin' tales at least get it right."

"Huh?"

"It wasn't and will never be Jack Daniels. That sh—stuff tastes like . . ." He couldn't come up with an appropriately censored description. ". . .it ain't any good." He reached for more cookies.

Gesturing to his hands Wendy timidly asked "Do those come out of your hands?"

"What?" he feigned ignorance.

"The knives."

He nodded.

"How'd you get them? Are they your mutation?"

The kid was getting too nosy for comfort and the agitation he unintentionally projected caused her to visibly shrink back. Her reaction wasn't lost on him. "Sorry kid. It's a real long story." His empathy for her distress was real and she sensed it.

Wendy stammered "No. . no sir. I'm sorry. I. . .didn't mean to. . ."

He cut her off " 's ok, kid." It was time to create distance from probing questions and from the kid herself. Around her he was in unexplored territory and he wasn't going in without a chart. "Ok ladies, gotta get this job finished up." He retreated to the ladder top. "Thanks for the cookies, Kit."

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

Two met at the imposing iron gates simultaneously; one from the right, the other left. Logan, working off stress, shooting pucks at the goal box, smiled as he recognized the gray Volvo SUV. The Volvo gave right of way to the silver Lexus then slowed to a stop a few yards from the ice rink. Rolling down the window, Susan called out "Hey good lookin', whatcha doin'?"

He grinned arrogantly before he sent the puck sailing into the goal. Perfect shot! He raised the stick in victory and skated to the edge of the rink. "Just wastin' time, darlin'"

"Must be nice. What's going on?"

He shrugged. "Not a whole lot. Classes let out yesterday, ya know."

"Ok. See you inside?"

He winked "Warm me up?"

She grinned "We'll see" then she drove up the drive and pulled into her customary spot next to his black pick- up. She spotted the unfamiliar Lexus and a tall, attractive, brown haired woman, probably in her late forties, making her way up the imposing stone staircase to the massive double front doors of Xavier's School for the Gifted.

Approaching Susan called, "Hello! Do you need help?"

"Oh yes, thanks ever so much. I have an appointment with Professor Xavier."

"Oh, simple enough. Come on I'll show you where to check in."

"That's very kind. . . Mizz. . ."

Susan held out her right hand. "Doctor Harris, school Pediatrician at your service." Her tone was warm.

Equally friendly the woman reciprocated the hand shake. "Marla Jennings; doctor, too; but the Ph.D. variety." Once inside the grand entry hall of Xavier's School for the Gifted, Marla Jennings paused for a long moment to gape at the finery. "This is a school?" she commented; awe reflected in her voice.

"I know" Susan concurred. "Beats the daylights out of some of the place I've gone."

The woman nodded in agreement.

Charles chose that moment to emerge from his office, smiling benignly as he whirred into the foyer. "Ah, Doctor Jennings, I presume?" He offered his hand.

Marla appeared momentarily surprised at the bald, somewhat elderly and obviously handicapped man but recovered her countenance quickly.

Charles, accustomed to such a reaction; gave it no heed. He turned his attention to Susan. "Glad to see you back safe and sound."

She smiled. "The only danger was the risk of falling asleep during the lectures." Charles nodded in appreciation. "I can see you're about to be busy. Bet I've got a pile of messages. Get with you later?"

"Indeed, brief staff meeting at four."

"Okee-dokee" she called over her shoulder as she briskly made her way to her office.

Charles immediately returned his attentions to Marla Jennings. "Please come into my office" he deferred allowing the woman to go ahead of him.

"Where is my daughter?" she anxiously questioned before Charles had the chance to invite her to sit.

Charles smiled, not at all surprised by the question. "At the moment, I believe she's with several other students in the gymnasium. Won't you have a seat?"

Mildly embarrassed by her show of anxiety, she quickly took a chair in front of Charles' massive mahogany desk. "I've been at my wits end over the last several days and my return flight from New Zealand was nearly beyond endurance" she explained breathlessly. She was silent for a moment and then continued; more calm "I can't express how grateful I am to you."

"I'm thankful I could be of assistance. Her situation could have ended quite differently had Doctor Harris not been at the right place at the right time."

"The woman I met in the hall?"

"Yes. Not only is she our pediatrician; but she's on staff at a local hospital, where Wendy had been brought."

"I should very much like to personally than her too. Does Wendy know I'm here?"

"No, I thought it best we not alert her. I wasn't completely certain she'd not flee."

Marla slumped in her chair and stared into the fireplace off to the side. "I have no idea why she ran away in the first place. I suppose we have a lot of talking to do over the holidays"

"I've spoken to Wendy over the last several days" Charles began. "She's not what I'd classify as the usual runaway. She was quite forthcoming in providing necessary information to reach you and gave me no indication of any problems at home. If anything she seems to love you and she's a delightful, well- adjusted for a young lady just manifesting some truly extraordinary Mutant gifts. If anything her only distress seemed to stem from fear that her power might pose a problem to you."

"Oh Lord. I do understand what you're saying Professor. Right before I left on my last business trip she told me about a dream she had; that I'd send her back because she was becoming a Mutant."

"Send her back?"

"You see Wendy's adopted."

Charles nodded. "Is she aware of that?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware she was X-positive when you adopted her?"

"Yes. Of course I understood that she may or may not have developed any powers. But I had no fear of that either way."

"What do you know about her biological parents?"

Marla hedged for a moment before answering. "Enough. They're dead."

Charles sensed her reticence in continuing on the current path of conversation. "Wendy said you're a geneticist."

"Yes. I've been working for a company called Genesys; it's one of the few in the world who's legally researched Mutant physiology and psychology. I'm vice-president of the pharmacology division."

"Not a researcher then?" Charles prodded.

"No. I've had my days in the laboratory but it doesn't pay as well." Growing impatient she diplomatically demanded "Professor, I'd really like to see my daughter."

"Of course" he answered and sent a telepathic message to Wendy. He turned his attention back to Marla. "I'm telepathic as well. She should be here shortly. How aware are you of the gifts that Wendy seems to be developing?"

"Up to just recently I've only known about telepathy. What is this telekinesis you mentioned to me on the telephone the other day?"

"It's quite extraordinary. The ability to manipulate objects with the mind is something that most telepaths can be trained to do in varying degrees. She seems to have the ability to protect herself with; well, for lack of a better description, an energy shield. She certainly has demonstrated an ability to use it for defensive purposes."

"Oh dear. Has she harmed anyone?"

"Not severely. She did rather forcefully prevent a doctor from examining her."

Marla thought of the very obviously pregnant pediatrician she'd just met. "Not your doctor here?" she gasped.

"Oh no. Doctor Harris was the only person at the time that could get Wendy to calm down. The other instance where she seemed quite unable to control herself was the other day, Monday if memory serves me correctly."

"Oh?"

"She suffered from a headache . . ."

"Oh yes, she gets those frightfully often."

"Yes, it's not uncommon in maturing telepaths. During the incident she went quite haywire, for lack of a better word and she quite literally tossed one of my instructors across a room." Charles fought a strong urge to grin mischievously as he thought about Logan sprawled on the floor. He wished he'd actually seen it as opposed to hearing about it from Wendy.

"She wasn't harmed?"

"No,_ he_ is fine."

Marla sighed in relief. "I think it's providence that she found this place then. I've truly been struggling what to do about her emerging powers."

Just then the door to Xavier's office burst open. "Mommy!" The petite, dark- auburn haired girl flew into her mother's arms.

Marla Jennings enveloped her daughter weeping with joy and relief while Charles chose to make a silent exit.

"Mommy, Mommy, I'm so sorry" she cried into her mother's bosom as well. "I was so afraid you were going to be mad; but I can tell you're not."

"Look a little deeper Wendy Leigh; I think you'll find we both have a lot to work through." Marla sniffled. Then she held her daughter back at an arms length and looked her over. "Seems like you were well-taken care of." She pulled her close again.

When Charles sensed a calming, he wheeled into the threshold of his office and cleared his throat. Both females glanced at him and Marla apologized. "No need" he replied. "I wish I had the privilege of arranging more parent-child reunions."

"Wendy, gather your things and let the Professor and me finish, please."

"Mom, I want to stay here."

Marla's smile was noncommittal. "That's one of the things I want to discuss, angel. Go on now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Wendy Leigh Jennings; keep your wandering little mind to yourself."

The girl hung her head for a second and then buoyantly sassed. "Whatever" but quickly countered with an obedient "Ok."

Charles Xavier and Marla Jennings continued with their conversation. Charles with optimistic diplomacy briefed her on all aspects of his School; expressing his philosophy of nurturing and instructing Mutant children to harness their gifts for good; assuring her that his School would be helpful to Wendy in preparing her to enter adulthood; most assuredly equipped for anything she chose. He was truthful when recounting that a significant number of students came from traumatic backgrounds and some even had Mutations that made their prognoses less certain.

Then Marla leveled him. "Is this not the school that was attacked?"

Charles sighed and steepled his hands in front of his forehead. "I shan't insult your intelligence, Doctor. Yes. It was a very unfortunate incident."

"What have you done since to ensure no repeats?"

"As much as humanly and humanely possible. This is not a prison or a military installation though I have installed the best security available and upgrade frequently. All of my staff has undergone specialized training. While I would like to assure one hundred percent safety; realistically you know as well as I that would be a false promise."

"I appreciate your honesty. It's so very difficult to know how to proceed. I know I'm on borrowed time with her. She's going to Saint Ursula's in White Plains; but as soon as the Mutant Registration Act becomes law in January I'm afraid they'll expel her."

"Would you like a tour and to meet some of my faculty and students?"

"I think I would and I'd especially like to thank Doctor Harris---and oh yes, apologize to the teacher that Wendy hurt."

"Shall we then?" Charles suggested and began the tour which eventually wound up at Susan's office and student clinic.

As Charles conducted his tete a tete and tour with Marla Jennings, Logan, still on the ice rink, was conducting his own inner debate; when and how or even if he should tell Susan about his connection to the new kid at school. It was pretty clear to him that the kid had no clue and so far he'd managed to block her telepathy enough that she seemed unable to read his thoughts. How long that would last he had no idea and that notion pretty much made not saying something to Susan not one of his better options.

He still had no idea who Wendy's mother might be and that continued to make him a little crazy or was it the fact that a significant part of him actually cared. Until he'd met and settled down with Susan, past liaisons were; well just that, past- Too bad. That's probably due to the fact that no 'consequences' had come knocking into his life let alone knocking him flat on his ass with a psychic push.Then there was the not so unbelievable thought that there might be a few more 'consequences' out there. Consequences that, by his farthest ranging calculations, would be at or soon approaching an age where Mutant powers would emerge and that didn't even begin to account for the 'lost' years.

Wendy narrowly avoided tragedy and the thought that a child of his might be suffering or harmed etched into his conscience. His mind drifted to the one child he did remember, his son by Mariko. Had he lived he'd be twenty four. Logan would still give anything to go back and change what had happened to Tad. The bottom line was he did care about his children; known, unknown, intended or unintended. Those feelings admitted he knew what he had to do.

Charles and Marla arrived at the student medical clinic just as Susan was finishing up returning e-mails. Her back to the entrance; she turned hearing their conversation and the low hum of Charles wheelchair. She smiled and motioned them in.

"I know you've met a short while ago" Charles began "but Doctor Jennings wished to be properly introduced."

Susan stood and approached as Marla moved closer offering her hand for the second time that day to her. "I'm Wendy's mother and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my little girl."

Instead of taking Marla's hand Susan immediately embraced her. "You're most welcome."

"Can I ask you what actually happened to Wendy before she was brought to your hospital?"

"Of course. Please sit."

"Ladies due to the sensitivity of this issue I'll excuse myself" Charles interjected then returned to his office.

The women discussed in detail the events at Westchester Memorial hospital and Wendy's reactions. Marla was visibly relieved to learn that her child had successfully defended herself from rape but still incensed and shaken by how close she'd come. After a few moments of silent reflection Marla changed the subject. Smiling warmly she commented "Looks like you don't have long to go."

Susan blushed "Not quite" and patted her belly. "Twins."

"Oh bless your heart." Marla's eyes briefly scanned Susan's richly appointed office her gaze resting on photos of Travis and Matthew.

"My sons" Susan replied having followed her gaze.

Marla's eyes fell on the photo of Susan and Logan taken at last summer's family reunion. Her breath caught in her throat and she acted as if she'd seen an apparition.

"Doctor Jennings? Is something wrong?"

"Umm! No, no; nothing." She straightened her posture. "I'm considering enrolling Wendy after Christmas. Will you continue caring for the students after your twins are born?"

"That's my plan, after maternity leave."

"I feel very reassured knowing you're on staff."

"Thanks."

Marla's eyes continued nervously darting to the photograph and finally Susan asked again if something was wrong.

"It's just---the man in the picture on your shelf---he resembles someone."

Susan turned, looked at the picture and replied "That's my husband."

She shook her head. "It's uncanny, the resemblance; but he'd be much older." She sighed and quietly added "besides he died."

"I'm sorry."

Marla glanced at her watch. "It is late and I must gather up my daughter. Again thank you."

CHAPTER FIFTY

"No guts, no glory" he muttered to himself before slipping into Susan's office through the side door.

Hearing the click of the handle, she looked in his direction. "Wondering when you were gonna get frozen through and come on in."

"Ain't cold, just invigorating" Logan teased and put cold hands on the back of her neck eliciting a shriek. He flopped into the chair closest to her desk. Becoming serious, he said "We need to talk" and at the same time tested the air for scents; ascertaining their privacy.

"Ok. What's up?"

He looked puzzled as he caught a long-forgotten scent. He couldn't quite access who and couldn't even decide friend or foe.

"Will you quit that" she scolded

He sniffed loudly just to irritate her. "Who was here?"

"Oh, Charles managed to locate Wendy's mother. She stopped by to thank me for helping her."

"Holy fuck!"

Puzzled by his reaction and affronted by his language she snapped "Beg pardon!"

"Susan . . . there's something you need to know."

She was struck by sudden refinement of his diction and intonation of his voice. Realizing he was deadly serious she focused complete attention and cued him on "What is it?"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shifted in his seat, heaved a deep breath and spoke in a low voice "Wendy's . . . my . . . daughter."

She dipped her head slightly, never breaking eye contact though it seemed an eternity before she responded. "How do you know?"

He pointed t his nose "Senses don't lie."

Speechless as her mind digested the revelation and swirled with speculation she struggled to keep her expression neutral. "Good Lord" she finally exclaimed in a low voice "I just sat here and had a conversation with a woman you've had a child with!" Silence and her strong emotions hung in the atmosphere like ozone. Logan got the sense if she'd had Storms power perhaps he'd resemble a piece of burnt bacon at any moment. Almost as quickly the fury he sensed abated; replaced by a mélange of emotions that were quite frankly difficult to sort through. "So what's the story, Logan?" The edge to her voice reflected the same mix of feelings.

"I don't know" he replied flatly.

"What do you mean you don't know?" The ire returned.

His own frustration boiled up. "Just that" he shot back just as sharply. "I don't remember."

"Oh for God's sake, how could you_ not_ remember?" Silence hung yet again as she gathered her thoughts and calculated in her mind. Her gaze couldn't have scorched more if she actually sent forth flames. She stood abruptly, flounced to the door; shut it with purpose and locked it. Then in rapid staccato she fired off question after question; offering no opportunity for a reply. "Does Wendy have any clue? Anyone else know? Come on Logan, from what you've told me you'd have been bumming around Canada or where ever. Your memory's intact from then isn't it? How could you not remember Marla Jennings?"

He didn't blink or flinch but the name Marla Jennings struck something in him; very much like the moment Stryker had stormed into Xavier's School. He knew the name and could even picture a face but he didn't know why or from where. Instinct was telling him she must be from those bad old Alkali Lake days but if that was so then Wendy's too young. He sniffed the air again trying to catch a remnant of her scent. Hers was intimately familiar though didn't stir the same dread that Stryker's did. It wasn't making sense.

"She a… "Susan fished for a description. "a very attractive woman." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Was her scent familiar?"

Logan nodded.

"How familiar? Passing acquaintance or more than that?"

"More."

"You've slept with her?"

"Yeah."

Silent for a full minute, she finally leaned toward him and in a business like tone declared "I've made it a point to keep from speculating about your past romantic life. It's really none of my business but just how much did you fuck around?"

He flinched this time; she didn't generally drop the f-bomb. Raising his arm and waving surrender, "Susan, I got my imaginary white flag out here." Again his diction was uncharacteristically correct, reflecting acknowledgment of the seriousness of the situation. "Don't you think I've been beating my head against the wall over this? I'm sorry, darlin'; I just can't remember the details."

Suddenly she sucked in her breath and turned to the photo behind her remembering what Marla had said.

"What?" he asked in response to her action.

"She said that you looked like someone she knew…."

"Who's she?" Logan didn't know if Susan meant Wendy or her mother.

"Doctor Jennings."

"What'd she say?"

"Something like…" Susan struggled to remember the exact words "an uncanny resemblance but who ever she was talking about died."

"That's all?" He couldn't mask disappointment.

"Yes, she had to leave."

"And takin' Wendy with her I guess?"

"Yes." Both remained silent and then she offered. "Logan, she's planning on enrolling Wendy after the Christmas break."

Logan leaned his head back lost in thought. Any hope of this problem going away just evaporated. "Geez!" he groaned and then muttered quietly "How much more fucked up can things get?"

"I don't know" she replied just as quietly. "How many more little surprises are out there?"

He sat up straight again and looked her squarely in the eyes. "I don't know; but ….probably more."

"Lovely" she retorted icily. She took a deep breath struggling to find sympathy for his predicament. In her heart of hearts she wasn't that surprised by a long-lost child of his showing up. There was a thread of logic considering his checkered past. She strode purposely to his side and gently touched his cheek. "Ok Bright Eyes, how shall we handle this?"

We? She said we. He wasn't expecting that. With a sad, weary smile he replied. "Don't have a clue yet, darlin' but…."

His words were interrupted as both of them heard a strong telepathic message. _Anytime_ _you two are ready the staff would be pleased to have your presence for the **four o'clock** meeting._

"Oh shoot!" Susan glanced at her watch. "We're late."

_Get the fuck outta my head_ Logan thought back but what Susan heard was "Shit! Whatever." as they hurried down to the conference room.

Susan appeared embarrassed and quickly and unobtrusively took her seat. Logan copped an attitude that screamed out this whole thing is a crock. Throughout the meeting he fidgeted and while she appeared attentive, her mind wasn't there.

That lasted until Charles cleared his throat and declared "Now for the last item on the agenda. Of course you're all aware of our recent guest, Wendy? Her mother has decided to enroll her as one of our rare tuition paying day students." It wasn't lost on him that both Logan and Susan snapped to attention nor were the strong feelings both seemed to be projecting. Resisting the urge to mind-surf, he continued. "I have the application paperwork and I'd appreciate if you'd all look it over." He passed around copies. "Scott, before you leave on holiday will you have time to run the usual background checks?"

"Not a problem."

After a few minutes Charles spoke again. "Barring Scott discovering something untoward; everything seems to be quite in order." Charles looked around at each member of his Team before settling his gaze on Logan. "Does anyone have any questions or concerns they'd like to address?"

Under the table Logan felt Susan's gentle, supportive squeeze to his thigh. "Yeah" he answered, which was met with some groans and sighs from a Team that really wanted to be done with the meeting and commence the holiday. "But not here, Charles. I need to speak with you privately." His lack of flippancy and correct diction wasn't lost on anybody.

Charles met Logan's resolute countenance with a scrutinizing gaze and then dismissed everyone else for a short break. Turning his attention back to him and Susan, who'd remained, he commented. "I've been quite aware there's been something on your mind for the past day or two."

Logan stiffened in offense; assuming Charles has surreptitiously searched his mind. "Then you already know."

"I sense you've been unusually preoccupied and seemed uneasy lately. I'll admit to being curious but no Logan, I haven't violated your privacy."

Logan relaxed slightly though his fingers drummed on the table top while he strove to say what he needed to. Susan put her hand on his as a gesture of support. Voice low yet deliberate he said "Wendy Jennings is my daughter."

Charles, never losing eye contact with him, steepled his hands together, touching his forehead and asked "Are you one hundred percent certain?"

"My senses haven't let me down yet."

"Indeed" Charles replied wearily. A few things fell into place in his mind while a new set of complications came to fore. He felt a Logan-sized headache coming on. "All right Logan, how aware are you of her circumstances?"

"Other than she's my kid and what's in her paperwork here, nothing."

"And her mother?"

"Biological or adoptive?"

"Either." he answered

Logan shook his head. "Don't remember."

"Curious" Charles reflected "Doctor Jennings said that both of Wendy's biological parents were deceased."

Susan interjected "She mentioned that to me."

"Perhaps Scott's background check will shed some light on things. In the interim it would be negligent and unethical if I did not share this with Doctor Jennings."

Logan jumped from his seat and vociferously commanded "No!"

With a gentle touch to his arm Susan sought to calm him. "Logan, Charles is correct; he's legally obligated."

Emphatically Logan pronounced "It's my responsibility. I'll talk to her."

Charles immediately reached for the telephone. It wasn't long before he'd connected with Marla. Switching to speaker he began "Doctor Jennings, this is Charles Xavier"

"Oh, hello" came slightly static-y reply.

"Terribly sorry to bother you…"

She cut in "No bother."

". . .some information has come to light and I believe it will have an effect on your decision regarding Wendy's enrollment."

"Oh. What might that be?"

"I think it's best discussed privately and in person. Might I impose on meeting with you here tomorrow morning?"

"Well yes, I suppose. The earlier the better; I've a shopping date with my daughter."

"Shall we say eight o'clock then?" Charles suggested.

"Eight o'clock it is."

"Thank you Doctor. Good evening to you." Charles clicked off the phone and turned to Logan. "Yours is not a position I would wish to be in. What may I do to assist?"

He didn't expect sympathy or help and could offer nothing by a shrug at first. "Soon as I come up with a plan I'll let ya know."

"Very well" Charles answered in a weary sigh. Then before telepathically calling the staff meeting back together he said "I have one request."

"Yeah?"

"Please brief Scott. This information needs to factor in with his background check."

"Shit" he muttered. "I will but only after I've talked to Jennings. If she decides not to enroll the kid there's no point."

Charles nodded in agreement.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

To say things were tense in the Harris-Logan household that evening would have been an egregious understatement at best. Susan's emotions see-sawed from one extreme to the other and she wasn't keeping it to herself. She started in on him as soon as they'd hit the front door. No doubt she'd have begun sooner but they'd been in separate cars that day. "Logan, how come you didn't mention anything when I called the other night?"

Feigning ignorance he replied "'Bout what darlin'?"

"About Wendy."

He shrugged. "No point. You were busy with that conference."

"I wasn't that busy" she corrected him while pulling out leftovers from the refrigerator. "Here, zap this in the microwave."

Lifting the lid he wrinkled his nose over the green glob quivering in the plastic bowl. "What's this junk?"

"Spinach soufflé."

"Ain't eatin' it" he declared and dropped the container in the trash.

Hands on her hips she glared at him. "What are you doing? Nobody said you have to eat anything. Did it occur to you that maybe I wanted it?"

"Fine" he snorted and retrieved it.

"That's disgusting! Just get out of my kitchen." She pointed to the couch. "Go—watch the news or something. Have a beer."

"Don't mind if I do" he replied opening the beverage refrigerator near the wet bar. "Want some wine?"

She thought for a moment and sighed "A small one."

He set the glass on the counter and muttered "Sorry 'bout the spinach."

Pursing her lips she nodded grudging acceptance of his apology. When he'd settled on the couch and began channel surfing she fired the second salvo. "So how are we going to handle things tomorrow?"

He pretended not to hear the question and settled on a hockey game. "Hey look here" he called "Your team against mine."

She glanced across the steaming pasta pot on the stove. With an ornery laugh she commented "Last time Dallas creamed Edmonton."

"Pre-season matches don't count."

"Ha! You've got an answer for everything. How 'bout answering my last question?" All she heard was a deep sigh. "Logan?"

He twisted around on the couch. Looking more than a little annoyed he replied "When I figure it out, I'll let ya know." He emphasized the word I.

Mercifully she left things along through supper but the strong emotions he could smell coming from her did little to stimulate his appetite. Halfway through the meal he left the table to finish on the couch; preferring the benign company of the TV. His slight wasn't lost on her and he smelled her frustration rise several notches.

"Logan will you please talk to me?"

Walking from the couch to put his place in the sink he replied "Nothing to talk about Sue."

Exasperated, she retorted "Nothing to talk about? Good Lord, you've got a child you didn't know about. You're fixin' to confront her mother – a woman you **say **you can't remember; . ." Her expression reflected a measure of skepticism over his claims of no recall. " . . .and you say there's nothing to talk about?"

He stared blankly, completely silent and retrieved another beer.

"Logan, please." Her voice reflected desperation and anger. "This isn't the time to simply improvise as you go. I want to help. Don't shut me out."

He wasn't ready. Solitude was what he desperately needed to think things through and he simply didn't have the whatever- it-took to sort it out and deal with her run-amok emotions. The scent of her emotions; the tone of her voice pushed him over the edge.Slamming the longneck beer bottle onto the counter top, it shattered sending foamy beer everywhere. "God dammit, woman! Will you give it a rest?"

She shrunk back as if he'd struck her. "I'm sorry but. . ."

"No buts Susan. I don't fuckin' remember. You're not helping so just shut up about it."

"Oh yeah, I'll shut up. You bet your sweet ass, I'll shut up James Logan. And you can bloody well handle it yourself." she retorted angrily, tossed her glass into the sink, cracking it and a dinner plate.

'Works for me babe" came his equally acid response before he turned, stomped to the coat closet and shrugged on his jacket.

"Where do you think your going?" she asked with fire in her voice.

"Dunno."

"That's right. Going gets tough and what's the tough guy do. . ."

He glared at her with barely controlled fury; insulted by her innuendo. "You don't know half the shit that's goin' on" he spat.

Incredulously she asked "There's more?" Then with sarcasm she commanded "Enlighten me, why don't you."

She'd goaded him but good and if he didn't put some space between them it was going to be more than a smashed beer bottle. "I'm goin' over to the Danger Room" he growled and without further ado he walked out slamming the door for good measure.

"Ooohhh, damn you!" she hollered after him. "You're the most impossible, pig-headed man I've ever known" she muttered to the just-slammed door.

"Fine, whatever! Suit yourself" she continued muttering while she made her way to the bathroom. "Does he think I've got no feelings about all of this? How selfish can he be?Why does he insist on pushing me away?" She drew herself a hot bath and proceeded to soak away her frustration.

Meanwhile in the Danger Room Logan was blissfully pounding and slicing away on a variety of holographic enemies. It felt good to clear away the complicated real- world garbage and simply focus on pure, simple instinct. Every now and then he wondered why he just didn't up and hit the road again. How uncomplicated it seemed; roll into a town, sign up for a fight, make just enough bread to get by, toss back some beers and get laid. Shit! Now he had real responsibilities. He had to plan, think about ramifications, and relate to others.

He thought about what Susan had said; that he took off when things got tough; and felt hurt. She'd basically called him a coward. Hurt morphed into anger and he bellowed and renewed a vigorous attack on a holographic Sabertooth.

Just as he decapitated his foe he heard Scotts over the intercom "Pushing the envelope aren't ya?"

Breathing hard, soaked with perspiration, Logan glanced up into the control bay and frowned "Ain't seen nothin' yet."

"Don't need to. You gonna be through soon?"

"Why?"

"I need to shut it down and program in some new stuff before I head outta here."

" 'K. Give about ten?"

"Ten's good."

Scott observed as Logan finished off his session with a choreographed routine of moves that appeared oriental in flavor. Fluid, controlled, elegant, yet powerful. Undoubtedly each move when applied offensively was lethal. He couldn't help being mildly awed and respectful of some of Logan's enigmatic capabilities.

Logan joined Scott briefly in the control room. "So you're seein' my sis over the Holiday, eh?"

Scott glanced nervously at his Team mate. When he saw only neutrality on Logan's face he smiled and replied "Yep. Leaving tomorrow."

Logan grunted indifferently. "Ya know Susie and I'll be there on the twenty-sixth."

"That's what Julie said."

Logan raised an eyebrow. _Julie? Ok, how familiar are they? _Disconcerted at discussing his sister he changed the subject. "How's the background check on the new kid goin'?"

"Fairly unremarkable. The only thing that's been tough is locating her adoption record."

Logan felt a shot of adrenalin circulate through his synapses but maintained a nonchalant demeanor. The secret was safe for the moment and that was a good thing. On the other hand when the truth became known he had no doubt the fallout was going to be nothing short of gut-wrenching for everyone involved. He didn't know why he felt that way; something simply nagged at his subconscious. Probably prior experience; not much if anything had been good about his past. His mind came back to the present and he remembered this night's problems. If his immediate future was going to turn out well it was time he returned home. He guessed it wasn't going to be an easy night. "Later man; gotta get back to the wife."

"Ok Logan. See ya. Hey, Merry Christmas."

Logan didn't reply in word or gesture leaving Scott to wonder what sort of burr he had stuck in his shorts.

The beast within temporarily harnessed, Logan could step out of himself enough to focus on Susan's earlier reaction. What the fuck was it all about? She'd zero-ed in like he was the villain. He could understand the anger; that was an emotion he wore like badge; but fear and jealousy? Where'd that come from? He felt like a creep for walking out. But he was pissed she interpreted it as cowardice. Far from it; her hammering got to him and while he was certain he wouldn't hurt her, simply smashing the beer bottle wasn't enough. He'd managed this long to keep the worst of the animal controlled for her. She stood fiercely up to him and by him so far so he guessed he owed it her to figure out where she was really coming from.

Pulling into the driveway even with the gleam of Christmas lights he spotted a glow from deep inside the house. She probably had the TV on.. Silently, quickly he slipped into the otherwise darkened house. The ring chimes on the security system announced his presence. Susan was curled up on the sofa wrapped in quilt watching some insipid Christmas movie. He sat beside her and said nothing. She gave no outward reaction but as the minutes ticked by he could smell those ugly emotions rolling off. He moved closer. She seemed to ignore him, drawing the quilt tighter and inching away. Not to be put off he draped an arm around her shoulder. She stiffened, breath quickened and he could hear her heartbeat increase but she remained still and silent.

"See Daddy" he heard from the movie on TV "every time a bell rings and angel gets its wings." and he couldn't help but snort.

"You would think something like that" she hissed. "Be quiet, it's almost over."

_Whoo-boy, still firin' missiles,_ he thought and fought off the urge to return fire. "Susie, I'm sorry—don't know what for; but I'm sorry." She was stone silent. "Ok?" he added.

"Ok? Ok!" she answered venomously. "No it's not ok!"

Feeding from her anger, he felt his gut clench. "Babe, why are ya so pissed? I ain't the bad guy here."

Abruptly standing, "Aarrgh" she exclaimed. "You're completely clueless!"

"Gimme a fuckin' hint then" he growled.

"You want a hint? Ok! Try relating, opening-up, communicating! I need to know what's going through that head of yours; what you're feeling."

"About what?"

"Oh my god! Do I have to spell it out?"

"Goddammit Susan!" He shouted, stood and paced. "Yeah ya do. I'm not a telepath but I can smell your feelings. You're pissed and you're scared and I don't know why."

Riveted in place, she stared at him, her face white with anger and frustration. She sucked in a deep breath and exploded with a verbal barrage. "Can you not understand? Of course you can't." she shouted. "I don't either" she muttered. Louder she continued "You've got to treat that little girl carefully. She's not the problem. Logan, I just can't buy that you don't remember someone like Marla Jennings."

"That's not fair Susan! There's still a helluva lot I can't remember and some of it any ain't even real."

"Well that woman is real enough. _Familiar_, isn't that the way you put it?"

"Whadda ya want; a list of every woman I've ever slept with?" He gave into the petty urge to strike back. "Ok I'll work backwards. Ya know that waitress over at Callaghan's? The red-head? She's a Normal; but kept the pace real good. How 'bout Storm? May've been only once; but not one to forget. Had me a couple of regulars . . . "

"Stop it!" she shouted and flew at him "I don't want to hear this" she screamed while pounding him with her fists.

He took it for moment before he grabbed and pinned her arms. "Whoa darlin'!"

She wrenched from him "Don't touch me" she hissed.

He withdrew like he'd been stung by angry hornets.

She studied him for a moment reflecting on what he'd just admitted. "You slept with Storm?" Pain washed over her face "Did you sleep with Jean?"

"No" he answered quietly. Now it was his turn to look pained.

"But you would have."

He couldn't look her in the eye.

"Get a piece of all the available action where ever you hang your hat, huh?" she spat.

"No. Not any more" he growled hurt to the core by her insinuations.

Suddenly her anger seemed to drain away, replaced by despair and resignation. "Same old story, new chapter" she choked on the verge of tears.

"Susie, what are ya talkin' about?"

"Don't you see Logan? First it was Allen and I put up with it for ten years until I actually caught him in our bed with someone else. Then there was Luke. He strung me along for three years and then went back to his -ex." A few tears dribbled from her eyes. "Every man I've ever loved has let me down. Do you have any idea what it's like to walk in on your very own father while he's having a lunch time tryst with his secretary? And now—Oh Lord, how can I ever look Ororo in the eye again let alone every time Jennings comes to school—with your daughter. I simply dig myself the same pit over and over."

Suddenly the light bulb went on. "Darlin' you're thinkin' this Marla Jennings and me?"He didn't care if she didn't want to be touched and pulled her to him. "No possible way. I made a promise to you. I won't ever let you down. _You_ are the _only_ woman for me."

Rigid as a pole, she didn't melt into him. "I'm trying so hard to believe that – you haven't given me any reason not too – but—"

He cut her words off with a deep, wet kiss. "I never will" he murmured.

She pushed away, less forcefully this time openly weeping. "I know. In my heart I do believe you. But, but—I couldn't stand it if you ever cheated on me."

He held out his arms and this time she allowed his embrace. Then he lifted and carried her to the bedroom. He set her down gently, bent over and kissed her again.

She pushed against his chest and pleaded "Just hold me."

"Ok" he said and maneuvered her into his lap. Tenderly he smoothed her hair as she wept into his shoulder. "Susie, lemme try and explain something" he said gently. "I chose you…"

"I know" she whimpered.

"No you don't know—not the whole thing. Yeah, I made a conscious choice but—it's more than that. There's somethin' inside of me—maybe it's got to do with my mutation; but we're bonded."

She looked at him through tear clouded eyes like he was crazy. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know if I can explain this but I'm gonna try. Don't know if I even understand it. Yeah, I got needs, maybe even more than most men and I never held back. I ain't gonna lie to ya, Susan. It's a strong probability that we'll come across more women from my past. But_ past_—that's the key word. Over, done with, don't care about 'em." He sighed trying to organize his thoughts. When I first met ya; I wanted ya real bad. But there was something different about it—about us." He paused yet again, frustrated with inability to concisely express himself. "Ya know what it's like with some animals?"

"What?"

"They mate or bond for life. It's in their nature or gene's or somethin'"

She shook her head. "You've been watching too much Animal Planet, Logan. We're not animals."

"Yes and no. I'm feral and there's no gettin' around that. Somethin' happened that very first time we made love. Whether I wanted to or not, I—no; _we_ bonded to each other. So when I tell ya you're the only woman for me, it's an unalterable fact."

"Oh come on Logan! You've got something called free-will."

"Not when it comes to you. It's only happened to me one other time…"

"You're first wife, Mariko?"

He nodded solemnly.

"But you're not bonded to her anymore."

"Nope. For the bond to break one of us has to die."

Shuddering she answered "I don't want to test that premise."

"Appreciate that darlin'. Ain't something I wanna repeat either. Damn near tore me apart."

"So you're trying to tell me that it's physically impossible for you to cheat on me?"

"Of my own free-will, that pretty much sums it up."

She shook her head not quite certain whether she believed him. "That seems so out-there." She paused searching for the right words. "But I guess there's a lot of unknowns about your mutation. Logan, I don't know what's going on with me but please be patient with me. I can't put these fears aside. I thought I had."

He continued to run his fingers through her hair. "Ssshh! You never told me you'd been hurt so bad" he murmured and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Considerin' some of the shit I've put you through; if this is all you're gonna throw at me guess I can deal with it."

The sound she made sounded like something between a laugh and a cry. "I love you so much. I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry for what I said."

"It's ok, darlin'. I don't deserve any medals for good behavior either."

She leaned up to kiss him "I need to be there tomorrow when you talk to Doctor Jennings."

"Guess I knew that was comin'." He could smell sour jealousy still coming off her in waves. "Non-negotiable, eh?"

"Non-negotiable."

"Ya promise not to get into some kinda cat fight with her?"

"No."

Chuckling he replied "Whoo-kay then. Remind me to stay outta the way." He pulled her closer, kissed her hotly and touched her intimately.

"Bright Eyes" she murmured when he broke the kiss. "I'm so tired tonight. Please, just hold me."

He sighed, disappointed but sensed her weariness. "Whatever ya say Susie."

She scooted down under the covers using his lap as a pillow. "I love you."

"Love you too." It wasn't long before her breath evened out and she was sleeping. He sat with his back resting against the headboard stroking her hair. He didn't think he was going to get much sleep tonight. He still hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to handle tomorrow and with everything else going on he felt primed for a doozy of a nightmare.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

It had been a rough night and the morning proved no better, especially for Susan. She'd no sooner lifted her head from the pillow and knew it was going to be a terrible day. The first thing he heard from her was a groan and then a pitiful "Logan honey, I need some tea and my Zofran."

He knew the signs and hopped to it as quickly as he could clear the cobwebs from his mind. He'd retreated to the couch and dozed off after she'd finally rolled over around four in the morning. He got the tea for her as fast as he could. Thank God for microwaves. "What can I do?" he asked tenderly.

"My meds" shereminded weakly between sips of ginger tea.

"Oh yeah. Hang on." He made quickly for the kitchen to search out the pill bottle. "Where the hell is it?" he called out.

She didn't answer right away so he stuck his head in their room. "Susie?" Too late; she was draped over the toilet. "In my purse" she croaked when the opportunity presented.

"Right." He dashed for it. "Where is it?" he shouted.

"On the desk."

That was helpful. There were three desks within range of the bedroom. A built-in in the kitchen, her home- office and an antique secretary in the corner of the great room. "Fuck" he muttered scanning the perimeter. There it was; kitchen desk. He grabbed the purse and bolted back.

She looked washed-out, pale green sitting there on the cushioned vanity seat. "Thanks" she replied as he handed it over.

"What else can I do?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head but then replied. "Bring my tea."

He complied. "My fault ain't it?"

"You know what?" she answered between swallowing down the anti-nauseant and tea. "I'm gonna let you take the credit or blame for this one."

He sighed dejectedly "Sorry darlin'" before he made for the shower. She followed up shortly after him.

Preparing for the ordeal ahead, they were mostly silent lost in their own thoughts, though the silence was intermittently broken by nervous small-talk and an occasional bicker over trivialities.

"Will you kindly hang up that towel nicely?" she scolded.

He shook his head and shrugged before make a feeble attempt at hanging it to her standard. "It's a freakin' towel" he muttered "Who gives a shit?"

"It doesn't dry properly if you don't"

"So I'll get another one."

"Then you can do the extra laundry."

"Whatever" he answered as he switched on the TV in the corner of their bedroom.

A few minutes later he registered disapproval. "Why ya putting all that make up on?"

She stopped in mid stroke from applying blush. "Because I look and feel like shit this morning" came her incredulous answer.

"Always look fine to me."

She harrumphed and thought _Yeah, you would say that_.

And that's how the morning continued, even as they drove together in her SUV. They bickered over which car to take. He wanted his truck but she flatly refused complaining the stench of cigars would make her feel even sicker than she already did. He acquiesced when she made that point because he already felt guilty about it.

A few minutes into the short drive she began "Ok, let's review the known facts." Her tone switched from shrewish to almost coldly professional.

"What?"

"Everything we know about Wendy and Doctor Jennings."

"What's the point?" he asked not masking his reluctance to talk about it yet again.

"Because if I don't keep my mind focused on something other than my stomach I'm gonna throw up again."

After a minute or two it became obvious he wasn't going to pick up the thread of conversation. With a long, frustrated sigh Susan continued. "Ok, number one, according to enrollment papers and what her mom said, Wendy's adopted. Second, you say she's your child…" She glanced over at him, his attention on the traffic conditions more so than usual. "Logan!" She said his name sharply trying to garner a smidgen of his attention. He responded with a grunt.

"Is there any chance you could be wrong?"

" 'bout what?"

"About Wendy. Are you listening to me?"

Her question elicited a sour glance. "Don't have much choice do I?"

"Asshole" she muttered before continuing. "I mean, look at it this way; no DNA studies have been done. I know your sense of smell and all is extraordinary. . ."

"You think I'm makin' this up?" he groused, thoroughly insulted. "I'm_ not_ wrong."

"Ok, ok! Don't get angry. Sorry. Can't blame me for grabbing at anything to minimize this mess."

Silence reigned again.

"You know, it's not the fact that you have a child, it's who this woman is. . .the story behind it; that's making me crazy."

"Ya think I don't wanna know what the fuck's going on?" he snapped. "Susie, we went over this last night. It's not helping right now. Can ya drop it?"

She pursed her lips and shot daggers with her eyes. "Fine" she huffed.

Just as they pulled into a parking space at School Susan gently touched his hand. "Truce? Logan, you do _know_ that I'm on your team?"

He thought and almost answered acidly _Really? Thought ya were the interrogation squad._ Her sincerity was real. Instead he squeezed her hand and replied "Yeah, truce. Thanks darlin'."

They made straight for Charles office where coffee, tea and breakfast pastries had been set up; a bit more than the usual. It was a nice touch but did nothing to gloss over the tension wafting off Logan and Susan.

Tempted as he was to address his troubled Team members he knew it wouldn't be well received, at least for the moment. "Good morning" he said with tempered cheer.

Logan responded with a grunt. Susan sighed as she took a comfortable seat. "I've definitely had better ones."

Charles nodded solemnly. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea's fine, Charles. Thank you." Then she added "I'll get it" and proceeded to the side table.

Logan strode over to the fireplace intently studying and picking at the Christmas garland draped across the mantle. "Nothing" he finally answered.

"I expect Doctor Jennings shortly. I assume the two of you wish privacy?"

"Nah, thought I'd invite the Jerry Springer Show; broadcast it all over the country" Logan answered sarcastically.

Susan and Charles glanced at one another and rolled their eyes. A protracted silence followed. Susan settled back in an over-stuffed chair and closed her eyes against waves of nausea that continued to plague her. More than once her pallor faded prompting concerned inquiry from Charles. Logan, standing by the fireplace continued to stare into the gas-fed flames and blocked his mind from intrusion.

At five minutes past the appointed hour Marla Jennings appeared, escorted by Ororo. Susan and Charles went forward to greet her formally yet warmly. Logan's posture straightened even though he remained with his back toward them all.

"Terribly sorry to be late. The freeway's a nightmare" Marla declared shaking a pair of hands. She surveyed the room, caught sight of the tall, trim masculine figure at the fireplace, and wondered why no greeting came forth.

She didn't get an opportunity to question or comment before Charles took control. Strongly aware of significant negativity between Logan and Susan, he dispensed with pleasantries and went directly to the point. "Doctor Jennings, as I said on the telephone last evening, some information has come to light that has a direct bearing on Wendy."

All the while Logan caught more of her scent and something began to stir in the recesses of his memory. He resisted the urge to turn around. It seemed important that Charles not be present when he finally made his move.

"It's a rather delicate matter involving Doctor Harris and her husband. If you'll forgive me I'll leave you in their care."

Marla didn't have a chance to reply before Charles bid a rapid exit. There was a moment of awkward silence and inaction as neither Susan nor Marla knew how to react.

In those few moments it came to him; who she was and where he knew her from. Logan turned to face both women and with a deep, serious tone said "Hello Marla."

She was focused on Susan but at the sound of an eerily familiar voice Marla Jennings' entire body snapped to attention. She took in the sight of him, gasped, paled and grabbed a chair for support.

Time seemed to stand still. Somehow Marla managed to sit. Susan found herself at her husband's side and his probing gaze never wavered from a clearly aporetic Marla Jennings. He didn't recall himself slipping his arm around his bride's waist.

Marla found her voice and sputtered. "Jim Logan? It can't be! They told me you were killed; that something terrible happened… No, I don't believe this. The Jim Logan I knew would be a much older man…."

Logan wasn't in the mood for dramatics now that the memory had returned. Firmly but with no malice he cut her off. "I'm not dead. I haven't aged and I want you to tell me about my daughter."

Marla opened her mouth to speak but quickly changed her mind. She hung her head and became silent. The massive grandfather clock ticking in the corner seemed to boom in the stillness. After a spell, she composed herself, raised her head to meet his gaze with equal intensity. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games, woman."

Another silence ensued. Weighing options, Marla Jennings finally spoke. "Rest assured I don't play games with my child. How do I know you're really Jim Logan?"

She had him with that question. It was fair. Without a word he raised his hands and slowly ejected all six claws.

Her eyes went wide and she paled. "Oh my God! They, they used to be bone." She looked away, sickened. "I'd heard rumors of such technology before I transferred."

"Weren't no fuckin' rumors, babe." Logan snarled. "Covered me in the shit from head to toe."

"How? How did you survive?"

"Ain't important. I just did."

"I'm truly sorry Jim."

"Not as much as I am."

Silence ensued for what seemed an eternity before Marla spoke. "I must have your word that nothing of this will get to Wendy. Unless you agree I shall walk away from here."

He wasn't in the mood to bargain but a small grain of sensibility and compassion softened his rigid stance. He knew very well that Wendy knew nothing of who he was. He couldn't, in good conscience, rip the kid's foundation from under her. He'd experienced that trauma when he'd made the connection that Thomas Logan and not John Howlett, II had been his true father. He didn't wish that heartache on any kid. "Agreed" he growled.

"I need to sit down" Susan was forced to quietly interrupt. She took her earlier chair and Logan, continuing to stare down Jennings, stood by her.

Still reeling from the shock from the ghost of Logan come to life Marla could only stare back between him and Susan. She never expected to face this situation and never devised a plan. Finally she found her voice. "One other thing. I want to know more of what happened to you."

Logan knew a stall tactic when he heard one and he was in no mood. Nor did he want to give her any rope to control the situation. "Maybe you oughtta tell me." It was a fair inquiry in his mind. Important details of his dealings or relationship or whatever it was with her weren't completely clear. Something didn't match up; namely timing.

The cat and mouse game for information was on and Marla, once composed was as good at it as anyone. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking. When my division transferred from the Alkali Lake compound in eighty-seven I never heard from you again. You did say you'd keep in touch."

He couldn't dispute her either way so he returned to the original question. "What about Wendy?"

What do you want to know?"

"Everything" he roared, considering her question demeaning.

"All right Jim," she addressed him as she once knew him. "I'll tell you. Yes, you are her biological father and I adopted her. I've raised her on my own for all these years."

"There's a helluva lot you ain't saying. If you knew all along I was her father then who's her mother?"

"You don't need to know."

His anger grew as Marla did her best to remain vague. "I don't need to know" he said incredulously and then he growled "Goddammit, I've got the right to know."

"The dead don't have any rights" she answered coolly.

Susan sensed the escalation in tension and interjected a voice of reason. "Doctor Jennings, Logan's not dead. He's promised and so do I, not to divulge anything to Wendy. Please help us come to terms with this. It's been just a much of a shock to us."

Marla harsh gaze darted between both antagonists. Then she leaned back into the chair and was silent devising the next delicate step to prevent from telling him too much. After a bit she said "I suppose you're right." She looked directly at him."Jim—Logan; is that what you call yourself now? I truly had no idea you were alive. I'd heard there had been a terrible accident at Alkali Lake and there were few survivors. At the time I wasn't even certain you were still attached. But I hadn't heard anything from you since I'd left, so I assumed the worst."

He sensed she was telling the truth and it gave him a small measure of control. Curiosity was getting to him. There was still a hole in his memory about the final minutes; or was it hours; after he'd made his escape. "What did else did you hear? Who told you about it?"

"I ran into Lucien Diebel a few months after it happened."

Logan cringed inside when she said that name; further evidence that he hadn't wiped out all of the evil from that corner of hell in northwestern Canada.

"He told me about it. He said it was some sort of nuclear accident; but he didn't elaborate whether it was the power plant or something in armament research division. He'd been hurt and been left with hideous scars on his face" She looked at him thoughtfully. "You were there, weren't you? You survived. Why am I telling you this?"

He fought to keep from reacting outwardly. Lucien Deibel, the Director had been hurt. No shit he'd been hurt; slashed by three razor sharp claws across his face. Ok, she was hedging on Wendy's background; he'd bet a million bucks on it so there was no reason he had to tell her everything. Under the circumstances it might do more harm than good. "I survived; with memory loss." He paused letting his explanation sink in. "Did he say who else survived?" Now he was fishing for concrete intelligence.

"He said Will made it out alive and a few junior personnel."

Hearing the name Will made Susan suck in her breath but she recovered gracefully. "Sorry, queasy morning for me" she explained.

Marla smiled knowingly and sympathetically and it puzzled Susan. Did she not say Wendy was adopted? "Doctor, is Wendy your only child?" she asked.

"Yes."

Susan nodded and filed the bit of information away.

Marla addressed Logan again. "That's all I know. I haven't seen or heard from anyone since then."

Again he sensed her honesty. "Fair enough. Marla, do you know who Wendy's mother is?"

"No."

Her scent immediately changed. "You're lyin'" he growled menacingly.

She immediately straightened her posture. "How dare you."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet. Now tell me what you know."

"No. Even if I did know, I won't. Her mother is dead and it would be unethical to divulge that information. Wendy's records have been sealed and will remain that way."

"I can find out." Logan threatened.

"I suppose you can. I'm warning you Jim Logan; if you do anything to upset my daughter I guarantee you'll live to regret it."

"She's not your daughter" he countered.

"In the eyes of the law she_ is_ and _you_ have_ no_ say. If I even think you're going to try anything I slap a restraining order on you."

He couldn't resist a sarcastic chuckle over the thought of a restraining order but he mellowed his reply. "I promised ya I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."

"Yes you did" Marla reinforced. Then more calmly she continued "One thing I do remember is you always seemed to be a man of your word." Then she added with a touch of sarcasm "Though not so much in the romantic follow-up department."

Susan didn't appreciate that dig and interjected in a syrupy tone "He's improved with time."

"Yes" she cut Susan a dismissive glance "I suppose I can see that."

Suddenly the room was filled with the distinct scent of feminine enmity and Logan felt a slight urge to climb under the nearest rock.

"I've had quite enough for one day" Marla said sharply and stood. "I've got lot to reconsider before I make a final decision about Wendy attending this institution. Kindly tell Professor Xavier I'll be in touch. Happy Holidays" she said with rancor before she turned on her heel and stalked away at a rapid clip.

"Oh that bitch!" Susan exclaimed. "I have no idea what you ever saw in her?"

"Yeah, she always was" Logan agreed but refrained from explaining Marla Jennings had been an easy fuck. In light of her reaction the previous night to his 'confessions' he didn't think she'd take it very well.

Logan and Susan stood transfixed, worn down, ambivalent and wishing for deliverance from the situation. Endurance at its end she went pale and quickly dashed for the nearest restroom. He followed closely behind and soothed her through the sickness with gentle words and touch. "I'm sorry darlin'. Ya made me really proud. I think I might gone off without ya."

"Logan, please be quiet" she begged during a lull.

When she retched again he whispered "More meds?"

"Please" she croaked between bouts.

He returned to her with meds, water and a cool water soaked napkin which he smoothed over her face and neck. When she felt better he helped her to the chair.

Charles reappeared but upon realizing Susan's disposition, bid a hasty retreat but they both stopped him. The threesome sat in silence for a while before Logan asked of Charles "Ya heard?" Charles response was a simple rising of the eyebrows.

"Something doesn't ring true to me" Susan commented. "For a woman who has only one adopted child she acts like" she gestured to her belly "she knows exactly what I'm going through."

"She's lyin' about something" Logan agreed and at the same instant Charles concurred with "Indeed, all is not as it seems."

A rap on the slightly ajar door to Charles' office and the clearing of a throat garnered attention. "Excuse me, Professor" Scott interrupted deferentially "I ran the background check on Wendy Jennings. Thought you might want it before I headed to the airport."

"Certainly" Charles replied motioning the man into the office. "Scott, close the door please."

With efficiency of motion, Scott Summers did as requested, dropped a CD-ROM onto Charles desk and reached for a pastry from the nearby side table.

Popping the disk into his machine Charles quizzed. "Anything significant requiring our immediate attention?"

"Maybe" he answered between bites of blueberry Danish.

Both Logan and Susan appeared keenly alert.

"Doctor Jennings indicated Wendy was adopted on the application. Well, damned if I can locate anything in any public records anywhere."

"She told us just now Wendy's records were sealed" Susan offered.

"Ok, that might be so; but when an adoption takes place, even if the detailed records are sealed you can usually find out at least the date and locality the adoption took place."

"You're sayin' there aren't any records?" Logan restated.

"I'm saying I can't locate any."

Frustrated Logan demanded. "What he hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means one of a few possibilities" Charles interjected. "One, her adoption may have been a private transaction. . ."

"Yes, but even private adoptions are registered somewhere" Susan cut in.

". . .a private transaction of the illicit variety or no adoption took place at all." The conversation needed to take a personal turn again. "Scott, thanks for your timely efforts. . ."

Logan cut in "Let 'im stay; saves me goin' through all this shit again."

"As you wish." Charles focused his attention to Susan. "Susan, you made an interesting point a few moments ago."

"What?"

"You seemed to think Doctor Jennings empathized far more with your condition than you'd expect?"

"She certainly gave me that impression." Susan thought for a moment and the shook her head. "Are you suggesting that Marla Jennings is Wendy's biological mother?"

"Timings wrong" Logan declared. "Trust me; I woulda remembered hookin' up with her fifteen years ago."

Scott shot Logan a sideways look as he started to get the gist of the conversation. "I'm missing something here" he said in an indirect attempt to verify his suspicion.

"Yeah, Scooter; Wendy's my kid" Logan admitted to with force to a visibly stunned, slack jawed Scott

"Sheesh, whadda ya say to that?" Scott muttered quietly.

"If ya know what's good for ya, nothin'" Logan growled and then fretted "Now I really gotta know who her mother is."

"It'll take a few weeks but I might be able to make that happen" Susan replied reached to punch a button on the speaker phone on Charles desk.

Logan stopped her. "What are ya doin'?"

"Checking to see if we have any specimens from Wendy's physical. I can have testing done."

"Like you did for me?"

"Exactly."

He pushed the button for her and in a lilting tone she inquired "Henry?"

"None other, my charming colleague."

"Flirt!" she teased appreciating a good mood in someone. "Do we have any blood or tissue samples from Wendy Jennings?"

"I believe we have a few vials of whole blood."

"Enough to run a Mitochondrial DNA assay?"

"I think so."

"Perfect. Could you pack them up for me?"

"Anything for you my sweet. For hand- deliver or mail?"

Logan joshed "_Anything_ better be strictly platonic, bub."

"Stars and garters, he's onto us!" Hank McCoy chided.

"I told you that silver tongue was gonna get you in hot water Hank" she responded with a chuckle.

"I can't help myself Doctor Harris. I'm simply a fool for lovely women." Welcome laughter rang out from all serving to lighten the mood.

"You're darling Hank. I'll be down to pick them up in a bit."

"Without you- know-who?"

"Not hardly" Logan answered continuing the game.

"Alas!" Hank sighed. "All right, I'll have them ready" he promised before cutting off the intercom connection.

Scott glanced at the clock on the corner. "I've got a flight to make." He stood and retreated across the office. Just at the door he bid everyone "Hey, Merry Christmas! See you guys" he meant Logan and Susan "in a couple days."

"That's the plan" Susan responded

Logan still in stressed- out business mode commanded "Everything that went on in this room today stays in this room. Got that?"

Insulted by his distrust Scott almost replied _Hell no, thought I'd stick a banner on the back of the 767 for half the North American continent to see. _Instead he replied in a purposefully non-aggressive tone. "Goes without saying, Logan."

After he was out of earshot Susan gently scolded "Hon, you didn't need to be so snarky."

He shot her an ugly look but didn't verbalize his thoughts.

Charles waited for emotions to settle a bit then asked the loaded question. "Have you two considered how things will be handled should Doctor Jennings finalize Wendy's enrollment."

Susan glanced at her husband; committed to following his lead. Logan replied simply "I'll burn that bridge after I cross it." _But I'd bet serious bucks,_ he thought and didn't care if Charles 'heard' or not, _we won't see either of 'em again._


	29. Chapter 29

**Authors Note: It's been quite a while since my last offering. I suggest reading the final paragraphs of my previous post in case you've lost the thread. I predict I won't be as quick on posting as before. I've got a new 'real' job and this story has taken several unplanned turns that have me doing serious rewrites; all for the best, I hope. **

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

On a minute dot of real-estate, one the many privately held island in the Caribbean Sea, another meeting was about to commence. Two youthful-looking men, clad in military style trousers and blouses, waited nervously in a well-appointed ante-room. Neither spoke. One, sitting cross legged, fidgeted with his bootlace while the other stared benignly at the tropical mural painted on the wall. The things, meant to simulate a window, were all over the well-guarded and camouflaged complex.

"Enter" barked a voice emanating from a speaker.

They stood, moved with precision and then froze at attention before the elegant yet masculine mahogany desk that dominated the room. A man, appearing to be in his sixties, dapper in khaki trousers and crisp white linen shirt, golden tanned and a mantle of perfectly styled thick, silver-black curls sat casually behind the desk. The comment was often made that he bore a strong resemblance to Rossano Brazi who'd portrayed Emeril LeBeq in the 1950's movie South Pacific. But that was only when viewed from his right profile.

Lucien Diebel turned to face his minions, revealing a hideous pattern of scarring; three slash marks that angled from his temple, to just below his eye, then down his cheek and ending at the jaw line. "Gentlemen," his voice dripped with false consideration, "it is not the custom of this organization to fail so thoroughly."

"No sir," the two answered in unison.

Diebel casually raised his hand in a gesture of silence. "You may speak when given permission," he said with a calm that belied the fury lurking behind his deep brown eyes. "Each of you shall provide an explanation to this phenomenal blunder and then it shall be decided what may be done to correct the mistakes. Mr. Kraft, kindly take seat out there." He pointed toward the waiting area.

When the door had been closed, Diebel continued, "Mr. Salieri, explain to me why two supposedly highly trained couriers cannot locate, secure and deliver a package when tasked to do so?"

The young man, clearly nervous, shifted his weight, rubbed sweaty palms on his trousers, sucked in a breath and answered. "Sir, the package contained an unforeseen surprise. Our orders were, as you correctly stated, to locate, secure and deliver. But we were also under orders to not draw attention to the extraction process or harm the package."

"And this unforeseen surprise?"

"She—ahem, the package was able to project an impenetrable shield. Once in place there was no unobtrusive way to secure and retrieve."

"So you abandoned the assignment."

"No sir. The local police became involved; but Kraft and I escaped their attentions. We were able to continue surveillance on the package all the way to the local hospital."

"How did the police become involved?"

"That was Kraft's fault."

"How so?"

"He broke protocols; became, umm, too friendly with--"

No longer able to conceal his rage, Diebel interrupted, "Damn fool! Define 'too friendly', Salieri."

The man proceeded to describe how Kraft had made contact with the package, though conveniently leaving out his complicity in the matter; and made 'inappropriate overtures'. "I made several attempts to stop him," Salieri lied, "but the package became unmanageable. Bystanders apparently called authorities."

"Enough," Diebel barked. "Send in Kraft and you wait out there."

Kraft told his side of the incident and it was, of course, a well-rehearsed similar version of Salieri's; save for who became sloppy and broke protocols. Kraft implicated Salieri.

After thorough interrogations, Lucien Diebel uncovered a bit of information that gave him a grain of hope that a second shot at retrieval of the valuable package might be possible. It would take careful planning, an extraordinarily skilled operative, a slightly more flexible timetable than originally planned and a bit of luck. The potential payoff made the added expense and time an acceptable trade off.

Diebel dismissed the two. When they were not quite out of earshot, he pressed a button on his desk and spoke "Security, Kraft and Salieri are not to leave the island. Please implement protocol three."

Instantaneously armed personnel surrounded the doomed pair. In less than an hour all traces of them would disappear from the planet. They never existed.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk. The solid rubber ball smacked the wall and bounced on the floor before rebounding back into Logan's hand. He didn't know exactly how long he'd been sitting there tossing it but it was long enough to create a mark on the gray-blue painted wall surface.

He'd delivered an exhausted and queasy Susan back home then returned to campus. In the past two weeks his life had taken unbelievably complicated turns and he needed isolation; time to think; to compartmentalize, or maybe just simply try to quiet his troubled mind. Most of the complications required a certain finesse, diplomacy and patience to handle; skills that weren't exactly second-nature for him.

He thought he'd handled Marla Jennings well. Conversely, the mental bet with himself; that his daughter probably wouldn't enroll at Xavier's School, seemed like a chumps' wager. Charles, raising the question; how would he handle Wendy; nagged at him. He still didn't have an answer that felt right. For now it boiled down to keep out of it only because that's what Marla demanded. That chapped his ass. He didn't usually take orders. But considering the kid, he'd comply—for now.

Susan's reaction; now that tied him in knots. He wondered how much the pregnancy hormones skewed her behavior. Probably not_ that_ much. Her conflicted feelings took him by surprise. Normally she was a steadying voice of reason; a calming influence over him. Now he felt like the role was reversed and he doubted his capacity to provide the same for her.

He hadn't heard word-one from Creed. Since he'd med with Charles last week, he dropped completely out of sight. Far as Logan could tell he wasn't even at his house. Being incommunicado wasn't necessarily abnormal if Creed was deeply undercover but it didn't exactly inspire a sense of all-is-well. In fact, Logan had been poised for events- catastrophic since the meeting. Aside from a significant risk to those he loved, he relished a chance to strike back at whatever remnants of Weapons X he failed to exterminate the last go-around.

Last, but probably not least; was the irritation of the Lippincott investigation. The whole thing was almost comical except for the fact that if he had to defend himself from a true indictment of murder or accessory to murder, the investigation and trial would bring on unwanted publicity to Xavier's School and render him a liability to the Team.

He could picture the headline in the Westchester Chronicle: 'Mutant School Teacher Strikes Noted Physician Down in His Prime.' Logan knew the case had no real merit but with the Mutant Registration Act poised for full implementation in just a week, there was no way in hell anything would befair about it. He might as well take a permanent-marker and write Scapegoat across his forehead or plaster a target on his ass.

There was the possibility of a Wrongful Death lawsuit and if that held up, defending against it would take a huge chunk of the family fortune. If he lost, he doubted the Trust Elizabeth gifted him and Susan with would come close to settling it.

The telephone jangled, causing him to startle. The rubber ball went wide and rolled under a chair. He grabbed for the receiver. "Yeah," he said with an irritated rumble. Upon hearing the voice on the other end, he tensed and knit his brow, giving the appearance of a man about to morph into a werewolf at any moment. "Speak o' the devil," Logan quipped to Detective Terrasino. "A friendly reminder, eh?" Logan parroted back, "not to leave town without checkin' with Westchester's finest." He spat the words. "Listen detective, unless you're plannin' on making an indictment and hauling me in, lay off." He was more than ready to pick a fight with someone and the cop was as good a mark as any. While Terrasino expounded with politely cached threats, Logan smirked at a mental picture he formed of them actually trying to take him into custody. "Got four words for ya, bub; talk to my attorney." With that phrase, Logan clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the base. A frustrated rumble came from deep inside. He picked up the rubber ball and hurled it with anger-stoked strength denting the side of a metal file cabinet on the opposite side of the room. "Fuck it all," he grumbled loudly, retrieved the ball and was about to give it another hurl. At the last second he thought better of it, not wishing the hassle of replacing a broken window or worse.

He pulled a cigar from the desk drawer and lit up; Xavier's rules be damned. This was his office. Most of the kids were gone or at least not anywhere nearby at the moment. If his life was going to continue going cluster fuck at least he could relish a minor, calming pleasure.

He paced around a bit then opened the door to the outside. It was snowing again. From the dusting on surfaces it'd been doing so for quite some time, blanketing the grounds in pristine splendor. That was the thing about nature; she, as he liked to think of it; could do wondrous things. From placid sights like fresh snow to the horrific devastation of a volcanic eruption; he always seemed to be more at ease with what she could throw at him. Nature wasn't vindictive, she didn't have agendas; she simply was. Learn to listen to, observe and respect her ways and a man could get along very well in the world.

He felt her tugging at his spirit and followed an inner compass. He was lead past the athletic fields, through the stand of birches and eventually found himself standing at the ponds' edge. A skim of ice had formed on it and powdery snow skittered across the surface carried by the wind. Cardinals and Blue Jays flitting among the trees added dashes of color to the drab winterscape. A pair of squirrels chattered and scolded, probably disapproving of his presence. By the time he finished the cigar he'd got a good dusting of snow on himself and he was beginning to feel the chill, but he felt calmer and slightly more optimistic. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and trekked back to his office.

His computer screen flashed a full electronic mail in-box and he frowned over the intrusion of technology. How quickly it could negate the fragile peace he felt at the moment. _Shit! A hundred a fifty three messages, _he thought;_ I don't know that many people. _It had been more than a week since he'd checked his mail. Most of the time, and this was no exception, the vast majority was spam. He always got a huge chuckle over Viagra solicitations. He'd be a rich man if he could turn his mojo into a commercial product. The get-rich schemes always amazed him and he couldn't believe the stuff that people dreamed up let alone the suckers who fell for it.

He clicked message after message off, deleting about two-thirds. He came upon a message from the local community college; his exam results. With mild trepidation he clicked the read icon. Trepidation gave way to a grin. He'd passed them all. Even sick as he'd been, he'd passed and passed well. The good feeling quickly became tempered by a message from the registrar informing him that everything he'd studied in Canada as a young man would not transfer. The news didn't foretell the end of the world but it was going to keep him at the 'books' for longer than he'd hoped. _Geez, composition one-o-one all over again? Like it's gonna do me a lotta good. Might hafta re-think this degree thing. _

Another interesting bit caught his attention; a brief article regarding the Mutant Registration Act. It expounded on global impact of the measures and briefly ran down a nation by nation summary on enforcement. It came as no surprise to him that the North American continent, especially the United States was poised to go hard-line; but it was an interesting revelation that Canada had chosen to allow each Province to determine their own levels of compliance. Predictably Eastern Canada and the far Western coastal Provinces with higher, non-native populations leaned to stricter levels. The central part of the country, more rugged and populated by greater levels of natives, was a patchwork of complicity. His home Province, Alberta, appeared to be the least compliant of the lot. He wasn't sure why but he had a gut feeling that bit of trivia might be useful one day.

There were a few actual correspondence e-mails; most notably one from his sister. She tended to send something about once a week, whereas his mother telephoned. Actually, it was Susan who usually telephoned and it was probably a good thing because he wouldn't think to communicate that frequently, if at all. Julia's mail outlined the social calendar for the upcoming Holiday week and she'd taken the liberty to upgrade the reservation he'd made at Lake Louise Resort. She had great connections being CEO of Howlett OmniMedia. He didn't think there was anything half-baked with the reservations he'd made; but hey, if lil' sis wants too, then he was cool with it.

Around four the thought he'd better check in with Susan. She might want him to pick something up on the way home and beside that he wanted to get a sense of her mood. He could tell she'd been online for part of the afternoon so he tapped out and Instant Message. _Hey, darling._

The return was simple; what?

_Feeling better?_

Yes

He knew better. She was normally chatty. _Need me to pick up anything on my way home?_

No. BTW: don't forget the WYAF performance tonight. I need you ready at 6.

What the hell was she talking about? He typed:

Westchester Youth Arts Foundation – The Nutcracker.

Aw shit! He wanted to forget about it. He thought ballet was stupid. The Nutcracker, overplayed at best and then schmaltz it up even more with a bunch of kids; well, root canal surgery seemed preferable. _Right,_ he typed. He wondered if he could find a way out but he knew with everything going on at the moment she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he did. Why couldn't she sponsor a hockey team or something like that? _Don't have to dress up for this?_ he keyed.

Business casual.

"Grrrrr!" he rumbled in his throat and then sighed. Could be worse; at least he didn't have to wear the suit. _Leaving in 5; see you soon._

She typed B-E, short for Bright Eyes; drive safe. At the end of the message she added a heart icon and the letter U.

He smiled. Maybe her mood wasn't that bad after all.

The mood at home did seem decidedly cheerier; maybe a little too cheery. Susan had the stereo going full blast; loud enough to hear back in the bedroom; with holiday tunes. Logan was beyond picky about what music he listened to and commercial Christmas music was beyond contempt in his opinion. While he'd never come out and admit it, he appreciated traditional carols done in traditional style and he was truly looking forward to Susan's solo of Ave' Maria at Midnight Mass.

He strolled into the master bedroom. "Think it's loud enough?"

Startled, she gave a squeal. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Never mind. Hurry up and change."

"In a sec," he replied before returning to the family room. He stood poised between the mini-fridge and the cupboard, debating between beer and something stronger. After today and owing consideration to this evenings' 'entertainment' something stronger won out. He poured himself a double shot of Glenfiddich before returning to their room.

"Guess who called this afternoon?" he groused as he stood in his closet staring blankly at several pair of dress slacks hanging in rows.

"No idea," she replied while inserting earrings.

"Detective Terrasino."

"Uh-oh! What did he have to say?"

"Just wanted to wish me Merry Christmas," Logan answered mockingly.

"Right. Come on, what did he want?"

"Just to lean on me and remind me I better not take off anywhere without checkin' with him first."

"So, can you repeat your response?"

"Yeah, I can. You'd be real proud 'o me darlin'." She glanced skeptically in his direction. "Told him unless he planned on making an official indictment he better lay off."

"And then what?"

"Told him to contact my attorney."

"You didn't? Oh Logan! In case you've forgotten we haven't officially retained one."

"Whatever."

"Don't say that. You could find yourself served and sitting in jail by tomorrow morning, you know."

"That's bull shit. 'Sides, like to see 'im try."

"Don't get stupid, Logan. I think you ought to call Sandra Chapman right now."

"Who the hell's Sandra Chapman?"

"The lawyer friend I asked to find out who was behind the investigation. She offered to take you as a client if need be."

"Just like that? She don't know me from Adam."

"She's a good friend and she happens to be very sympathetic to Mutants. I think she might even be one. Now will you hurry up and change?"

He grunted, grabbed a pair of dark gray trousers and a light gray turtleneck pullover. Petulantly he asked, "This acceptable?"

Susan sighed. "It'll do. Why don't you mix up the colors a little bit? You're always so—monochromatic."

He shot her a sour look. "What da ya suggest darlin', a chartreuse sweater?"

"Would certainly garner attention."

"Don't wanna garner attention. Things don't go too well when that happens, ya know."

Yeah, yeah. You do have a nice sweater in the top drawer." She pointed to the armoire.

He huffed, trudged over, yanked open the drawer and pulled a multi-hued cable knit sweater on. "Happy now?" _Look like a fuckin' Christmas tree,_ he thought.

She laughed. "Look at your hair."

His devil-horn cowlicks stood out more pronounced than usual. "Ehh, who gives a shit," he grumbled and smoothed them down.

"Usually it's can dress 'em up but can't take 'em out," she teased, fluffed her fingers through his raven locks and pecked him on the cheek. "Come on, you look fine and the sweater's good colors for you."

"Where's what's 'er names number?"

"Sandra? Ummm, wait a sec, I've got it programmed in my cell." She left the room, rummaged through her purse, punched the numbers then handed it over as it rang.

"Whoa Susie, don't ya think it'd be better if you talked first?" He handed it back.

Her face reflected perplexity and mild amusement over his reticent behavior. "Ok," she answered. The phone rang into voice mail and she left a brief message. "Sandra, it's Susan. Remember that situation I had to you look into? Looks like we're gonna need you. We're out tonight but if you could call Logan directly tomorrow he can better explain things." She dictated his cell and thanked her then clicked off. "How hard was that, Bright Eyes? Now, call Terrasino and actually give him your attorney's number."

"Umm, don't ya think I better talk to this Sandra first? How do ya know she'll really take me on?" The he got a strange look on his face as he realized Susan had been at it again. "You had this arranged already, didn't ya?"

"Let's just say I wanted to keep Murphy from getting the upper hand. Better to be prepped for the worst and pleasantly surprised if you don't need it."

"Anybody ever tell ya that yer a busybody?"

"Of course and I work hard for the reputation. Now, let's get a move on or we'll be late."

A bit later, stuck at a traffic light for the second cycle, traffic was that heavy, Susan expressed, "You know, this isn't how I imagined our first Christmas together."

"Huh?"

"Oh, I don't know; I get unrealistically sentimental this time of year. I kind of expect things to be like a Hallmark Christmas card or something. You know; perfect and beautiful—never any problems. Seems like we've had more than our share of problems the last ten days alone."

Logan nodded in agreement. "Can ya really remember one when it was really like that; you know, picture perfect?"

Susan thought for a long moment and admitted, "Not in a long time."

"How 'bout when your boys were little?"

"Oh you won't believe how complicated a time that was. We had to balance Hannukah and Christmas. Even though Allen always said dual traditions were just as important to him, I always felt like he looked down on Christmas."

They made it through the intersection and sped along. "Logan, how do you really feel about the Holidays?"

He rubbed one hand through his hair and sighed. "Guess I feel like I'm just learning about it for the first time. I got a few memories from when I was a kid; but they don't seem all that real and ya really don't wanna know about when I was on the road."

"What's important to you about it?"

He draped his arm across her shoulder and pulled her close. "You bein' with me, darlin'. That's all."

She smiled gave his knee a squeeze and snuggle into him.

They made it to the theatre with little time to spare. Logan immediately tensed from the unfamiliar crowd. Not wanting to be there in the first place made it that much harder to keep the anxiety in check. "This is gonna suck," he muttered.

"Don't be a scrooge. These kids are good," Susan scolded.

He shook his head and studied his boots as they waited in queue for seats.

"I'm serious, Logan. Westchester Youth Arts Foundation only takes the best of the best. Most of the kids performing have realistic shots at Julliard or the Peabody Institute or any number of prestigious performing- arts colleges."

He briefly raised an eyebrow and then shrugged.

They made their way to seats in the rear of the auditorium and he made sure he got the outer row chair. At least he wouldn't feel completely hemmed in and could stretch his legs along the aisle.

They'd just got settled when two white- haired, elderly ladies reeking with perfume indicated their wish to take the seats just next to theirs. Logan and Susan stood to let the women pass and it wasn't two minutes before his eyes began to water and his sinus's itched. He pinched his nostril and breathed through his mouth; but that just made his throat feel tickly and he coughed.

Susan gave him a queer look. He mouthed 'perfume' and promptly fell into a sneezing fit. "Good grief, bless you," she said fishing a tissue from her purse. "Here."

He looked at her like she was crazy. Tissue, Wolverine- nah ah! Besides one measly slip of delicate paper wouldn't do squat for him. Given enough time his healing factor would kick in and he'd become desensitized to whatever particular skunk juice the old broads wore. Meantime, he was in for a bit of suffering. He felt sorry for everybody around him for about thirty seconds until the next explosion of sneezes. "Gotta get some fresh air, darlin'," he told Susan glaring past her directly at the old ladies.

"You ok?"

"Will be in a couple minutes. Be back before the show starts. Ok?"

"Logan, be good," Susan warned in a gentle tone. The look on her face reflected her seriousness. Leaving him alone with unfamiliar people was a recipe for trouble.

"I swear," he replied leaning close to her, "just gotta take a pi--, hit the restroom. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

She tugged his arm gently. "Define perfect gentleman."

He was about to take offense when he saw the twinkle in her eyes. If his senses hadn't been short-circuited by the perfume, he'd have smelled her vivacity. He gently squeezed her shoulder. "Promise babe, Miss Manner would give me a gold star," he joked.

"Hurry back," she replied as he made his way out of the auditorium. She made a mental note to herself that if he wasn't back in ten minutes she'd go get him; even if it meant a foray into the men's room.

The old lady sitting to Susan's left side commented, "Is your husband all right?"

"Just allergies..," she replied wistfully. Her tone changed as she clarified and emphasized her own distaste, "..to perfumes."

"Oh dear, how difficult," the old lady sympathized.

Susan rolled her eyes, looked away and thought, _How_ _clueless can these old bats be?_ _Oh never mind, it's not worth the aggravation. Just hope Bright Eye's night isn't ruined because of them._

Logan made it back just as the opening dance began. He sneezed a few more times then spent the rest of the evening stifling coughs and clearing his throat.

"How come you can smoke those obnoxious cigars without a hitch and perfumes turn you into a snot fountain?" Susan whispered just after he'd settled back into the seat.

"No clue," he answered curtly. He surveyed the audience and details of the auditorium looking for what? He could never go anywhere without scanning for hidden dangers, likely places for bombs or snipers, hostile mutants, location of exits and ease of getting to them; even feasibility of forceful defensive action if necessary. _Give it rest, bub,_ he thought, _it's a freakin' Christmas ballet. _He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Dumb idea; he got another whiff of perfume and let out with a loud sneeze.

He scrutinized the stage. The lead dancer had just received the gift of a nutcracker from the uncle character. His eyes darted back to the lead dancer; a petite thing, willowy and lithe, just as a dancer should be; and the kid _was_ good. She was probably going to be a knock-out someday too. He studied her face; even from the back of the auditorium he had no trouble making out her delicate, yet patrician—"Holy shit!" he gasped far too loudly.

Susan glared at him and the old ladies reacted as if they'd been slapped with a wet fish. One of them harrumphed while the other tittered something about the rudeness of the younger generation.

"Gimme that program," he demanded, moderating his voice.

"What is your deal?" Susan whispered.

"Look at the kid on stage."

"Logan, there are at least a dozen."

"The lead dancer; the Clara character," he specified.

She had to squint and after a moment she asked to look at the program. There it was listed in the cast: Clara played by Wendy Leigh Jennings. "I don't believe this," she muttered.

Sinking down low in the seat he echoed "_You_ don't believe it?"

"Do you wanna leave?"

"Yeah," answered quickly and began to rise but changed his mind.

Susan was surprised when he settled back. "You sure?"

He nodded though couldn't verbalize why. Something made him need to stay and watch her. Call it curiosity, a touch of pride; (the kid was good) and maybe even a touch of stupidity. Certainly her mother had to be in the audience or maybe backstage. Knowing Marla; and he remembered enough, she'd be one of those stage-mother types. There were too many overlapping scents and the damned perfume had his olfactory nerves on overload, so there was no way he could get a sense where she might be. He definitelycaught a whiff of growing tension coming from Susan. _Geez, Louise,_ he thought, _ain't goin' through another night like last night. _"How 'bout you?" he whispered, "wanna bug outta here?"

She didn't answer for what seemed like far too long and it worried him, especially since he could sense her stress hormones continue to ratchet up. Finally she replied, "At intermission. It'd be rude any sooner." Decision made, her stress seemed to moderate though she not- so- subtly clasped his hand through the remainder of the show.

Suddenly he had an entirely different outlook on the production. He kept his eyes on his daughter marveling at her grace. _Didn't get that from me,_ he thought.

He was surprised when Susan voiced, "She's so much like you; so fluid in movement."

"Say what?" he whispered back.

"Like when you go through that routine, you know after a work out in the Dan—er, gym." She almost said Danger Room.

He didn't quite agree with her comparison and shook his head. It really began to bother him; Marla_ ain't Wendy's mom, I'd smell it if she was, but she's lying about something. __Just who the hell was her mother? _Thoughts raced through his mind as he recalled the days' earlier happenings._ How did Marla come to adopt her and why were the records sealed or possibly non-existent like Scott mentioned? If the DNA doesn't gimme answers she will or I swear I'll beat it outta her. _

Applause broke his reverie. Intermission arrived faster than he expected and Susan was on her feet before the applause petered out. Without a word she grasped his arm and made haste toward the exit. He wasn't sure whether the urgency was for him or herself. If he had any thoughts of staying and watching the second half he knew it was going to stay just that; thoughts.

Susan needed to visit the restroom before the journey home so she left him in the lobby. "Don't move, don't talk, don't even look anybody in the eye," she commanded.

"Jawohl" he replied sharply though the look on his face reflected insult and irritation. After she'd gone he sighed and thought, _gotta lot more to work through._

Suddenly he caught the scent and heard the voice almost concurrently. "What are you doing here?"

He turned slowly to face the woman who raised his daughter. With a flippant smirk he replied, "Waitin' for my wife." He glanced toward the ladies room.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I'm watching the show. What are you doing here?

"The same as you," she answered elusively.

Trying for a hint of civility, he remarked, "Small world, ain't it? Twice in one day, eh."

She glared angrily, in no mood for small talk.

Trying once more for the gentlemanly approach he observed, "She's something, isn't she?" He meant Wendy.

Marla visibly stiffened. "I told you to stay away from her."

He chuckled acidly, realizing she wasn't going to give an inch. "So ya did."

"And do you think I was joking for one moment when I said I'd seek legal recourse if you didn't."

Gentility out the window, he exclaimed, "Geezus, woman! I'm here to see the fuckin' ballet. I'm supposed to know she was in it? Didn't even know she danced."

Marla eyes darted nervously, alert to any sign of Wendy making an appearance. Logan relished being the cause of her anxiety, so much so he thought he might up the ante. "Marla, have you thought about how you're gonna keep blocking her telepathy?"

"That's none of your business."

"She's gonna find out sooner or later. You can't keep secrets like that. I can tell ya from bitter experience."

"I couldn't care less about your--"

At that moment Susan emerged from the ladies room. "Ready? Let's— Oh, no!"

"Doctor Harris," Marla acknowledged with an icy expression and then turned her attention back to Logan. "I could care less about your experiences or your opinion."

"So be it. But lemme ask you this; what are you gonna tell her when she does ask?"

"The truth."

"And what's the truth?"

"You simply provided a share of the biological material needed to bring her to life"

"What the fuck does that mean?" he growled.

"Excuse me the show's about to begin." She turned and moved in the opposite direction.

Logan reached aggressively for her while Susan grabbed him by the arm. "Logan, not now!" He snagged the edge of Marla's coat and growled at both she and Susan.

Marla stared him down trying to appear unperturbed. "What does it mean? Figure it out." She wrenched away and sped back to the auditorium.

Susan, thoroughly offended that he would growl at her, wrapped her coat around herself and flounced out of the lobby. Logan, feeling like he'd just gotten a double barrel shotgun stuffed up his butt, stood there. He debated for a few seconds going after Marla. He wanted clarification about the biological material crack she made. He didn't like the implication. Instead, he figured he better make quick for the car lest Susan drive off without him. It'd be a long, cold walk in just this sweater. _It's gonna be another one 'o those nights _he predicted to himself.

She waited for him and already started the engine to warm the car up, but the icy blast she emoted nullified the heater. "I cannot believe you! Three freaking minutes, Logan! That's all I was gone and you can't manage to keep out of trouble."

"Don't start, Susan," he warned as he revved the engine and squealed out of the lot. "You think I went looking for it. Lemme tell ya how it went down. I was standing there mindin' my own business. She's the one who started in on me."

"Oh, all right. Fine," Susan responded and then fell silent.

They drove for several miles before another word was uttered. "Logan?"

"What?" His response was sharp.

"This is something that's not going a way unless somebody relocates."

"Yep. Thinking about taking a job up on the Alaska Pipeline."

"Don't joke," she rebuked. "The stalemate between you and Marla has got to be resolved. The longer it goes on the more harm to everybody, especially Wendy."

"And you think I don't know that? Unfortunately darlin' ain't much I can really do without Marla making the first move. Thing is, even if she does nothing, Wendy's gonna find out. Her telepathy's strong. I had a hard time blockin' without projecting thoughts that would have freaked her out. Marla's only a little stronger than me."

"Marla's telepathic?"

"No. She can only block fairly weak telepaths. I'd forgotten about that 'til tonight."

"Some how," Susan suggested, "you and Marla are going to have communicate and come up with a strategy. If it comes out by accident or Wendy picks up on it from you or Marla--"

He cut in. "Yeah, it's gonna be devastating for her."

They rode in silence for a few miles and then she asked, "Do you want to be a father to her?"

"You know, I probably wouldn't turn down the chance."

"Enough to fight for her; even custody?"

"Wouldn't put her through that without damn good reason, Sue. I remember how all the innuendos about my real father made me feel when I was growing up; and nobody ever said anything directly. I think I'd take it as it comes and be—be whatever Wendy wanted me to be."

"You _have_ put some thought into this, haven't you Bright Eyes?"

"Let's say it ain't exactly been on the back burner, ya know?"

The climate, once they'd reached home and settled in for the evening, hadn't really warmed much. It may have been a pleasant seventy degrees on the thermostat, but the wall of ice separating the two sides of the king-sized bed made frostbite a distinct possibility. Susan sighed and tossed and turned, timing it just so.

Every time Logan drifted off she'd do it again. Exasperated, he whispered, "Susie, what's a matter?"

"Just can't get comfortable."

Finally, after a few more turns and yawns, she murmured, "Did you love her?"

"Marla? No," he replied with certainty.

"What was she then?"

He groaned, reluctant to get into the topic and propped up on his elbow. "I dunno—she was—just there; you know?" He hesitated, trying to sort through his thoughts. "I was lonely; on the rebound. 'Riko'd been gone just a couple months."

"Was she ever involved in the awful things they did to you?"

"Nah, she was gone by then."

"Did you think she was beautiful?"

"She was ok, I guess. Not too much to choose from."

"What about now?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think she's attractive now?"

"Aww Susie, what are ya getting at?"

"Nothing," she snapped and rolled away from him.

There was definitely something. He could smell sour jealousy again. He switched on the lamp and tenderly pulled her closer. "Look at me" he pleaded. Hovering over her, he lovingly cradled her face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers. "You got nothing to worry about" he murmured. Ardently, he crushed his mouth to hers. He knew he'd better find a way to prove that the vow he'd made with her_; no force in the universe_ _would ever come between them_, was as unbreakable as the metal bones in his body. Need and passion evident, he murmured huskily, "Don't say no, darlin'; not tonight."

She looked deep into his smoldering, dark eyes, her own bright with yearning. The fiery kiss she returned, the way she melted into his flawless body gave the answer they both craved.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Been a while, so I better do it. Marvel owns the X-Men. No infringement intended. I'm not making any money. **

**Author's Note: It's more difficult to write as much these days. New job's really getting in the way. I'm still seeking criticism and praise. Please don't hesitate to drop me a note. Thanks to all who've taken valuable time to comment. Heaps of gratitude to Rhiannon UK and most recently joegood, who spend a lot of time giving guidance, ideas and a swift kick when I need it. **

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

Half an hour before his alarm clock was timed to go off, they lay spooned together; she in the crook of his left arm while his right arm draped across her midsection. He could feel the twins shift and kick against his palm and if he got close enough, could pick out their galloping heart beats over hers.

He nuzzled her hair, relishing her sweetness, yet cursing the tint of pathos he'd caused her. On some level he'd failed. Not physically; they'd come together in perfect synchronicity, but he'd not erased her anxiety. He smelled it on her, even veiled by the musk of her sexual response. The tears she shed right after was another clue to his deficiency. When he'd begged to know what was wrong still, she'd denied her feelings even to herself, blaming her crazy hormones.

_What more can I do, darlin'? What'll really convince you that nobody's coming between us? _He'd racked his brain for most of the night while she slept. He'd doze a bit, but every sigh, every move she made; disturbed his slumber and he'd lie awake for long stretches trying to discover the answer.

His arm cramped from her weight. Carefully, he slid it free, wincing from pins and needles and flexing his fingers to speed the return of normal sensations. She moaned softly and rolled onto her back, commencing her usual squeaky, early morning snores. Chuckling inwardly, (_I_ don't snore, she steadfastly maintained) he switched off the alarm clock moments before it shattered the early morning silence.

She must have sensed his leaving because she sat up and murmured, "What are you doing?'

He whispered, "Got the six a.m. watch," while he slipped into loose, flannel trousers.

She yawned and made her way to the bathroom. "Oh. Forgot." By the time she'd returned to bed he was in the kitchen pouring coffee.

Oversized mug in hand, about to sprint outside for the morning paper, the glow from his slumbering laptop computer screen stimulated a thought. In less than a second it gathered the momentum of a freight train. _Hold up, bub. Ya just might_ _have an answer._ He sat and pushed 'Enter', anxious for the screen to illuminate. Next, he logged into his mail while drumming fingers impatiently. It seemed to take an eternity to boot up as did finding and scanning what he sought: 'blah, blah, blah…interestingly, Alberta Province, particularly Banff and the town of Lake Louise, have become the mecca for quick, no-questions- asked, legalized weddings between unconventional couples.' He muttered, "All right. Logan, old man. If ya can pull this off, she just might really believe." He paced, stopping every so often to re-read the screen as his mind reeled with the how-to of pulling something this extraordinary off on such short notice. He might need help pulling the right strings, so swallowing über-masculine pride, he quickly typed off a message to his mother simply asking that she call him on his cell at a certain time. With the time zone differences, it'd be well into the morning for him, but he needed to reach her when he was sure Susan wouldn't be near.

That done and his mood elevated for the first time in days, he sprung for the shower. Pressed for time; he dispensed with shaving; not much point to it anyway. His beard grew so rapidly that if he was to appear tidy for Christmas Eve festivities, he'd have to shave again later. The salt and peppering in his beard, side-effect of the Mutant Flu, though fading with each day, caused him a moments' hesitation. _Awww, screw it! Ain't foolin' anybody,_ he thought. After slipping into jeans, boots, a black t-shirt and finally a beloved, well-worn flannel shirt, he eased to Susan's side, pressed a kiss on her sleepy head and whispered, "Love ya, darlin'."

"Hmmm," was her drowsy reply, "love you too." She yawned, "See you in a couple hours."

At six in the morning, things were tranquil at Xavier's School for the Gifted. The dozen or so students remaining on campus through the Holidays were sleeping soundly, as any self-respecting teens would be at such an ungodly hour. The only activity was Mrs. Burns, the cook, beginning preparations for breakfast.

"Mornin'," Logan greeted. "Smells great." He often slipped in by way of the kitchen and Mrs. B usually had, at the very least, fresh coffee ready.

"Happy Christmas, Logan," the portly, middle-aged woman chirped. "Thank you. If you'll give it half-an hour you can have some fresh from the oven."

"Smells like cinnamon," he commented, stealing a peak into the oven.

"And walnut. Coffee cake," she informed. "You're timing's perfect," she said, handing over a batter covered, wooden mixing spoon.

"'S'pose ya want me to test this?" he queried with a wink. "Make sure it's up to the usual standard."

"Who else would I chose?"

He licked the spoon clean. "Seems pretty good, but umm," he glanced around the counters, "might need just a bit more," he spotted the mixing bowl and went for it, "to be completely sure."

Mrs. Burns laughed heartily, "Indeed, wouldn't want there to be any doubt," then busied herself with fresh oranges and a juicer.

Kurt ambled into the kitchen, "Frohe Weihnacthen."

"Same to ya, Elf," Logan returned in German, and then translated for Mrs. Burns. "Said Merry Christmas." Immediately returning attention to his team mate, "Quiet over the last twelve hours?"

"This day I'll take no offense to Elf, Herr Wolverine," he retorted with the kindest smile a blue Satan-esque Mutant could muster while emphasizing Logan's nickname. "All quiet? Ja."

"That's what I like to hear. Kurt, before ya clock out will ya help me with something?"

"Of course. Vhat?

"Help me haul something from the woodshop."

Not a second later, Kurt felt a vibration from the miniature perimeter alert device in his pocket. He muttered, "Scheisse!"

Logan snickered and thought, double confession for him, surprised at the profanity. "Trouble?"

"Breach auf sector sechs. Probably raccoons or somezing."

Nodding, Logan replied, "I'll check it out." He swallowed down the rest of his coffee and bolted outside. _Gotta be a way to upgrade that thing,_ he thought, frustrated with technology that couldn't discern the nature of an intrusion.

Sector six was heavily wooded so it wouldn't be easy for anyone to detect him. A wild animal might, if he was downwind; but in that case, it didn't matter. He caught the scent of the intruder before he saw the majestic Buck and his Doe. Taking even more care, Logan positioned himself beneath a sheltering pine and observed. For a moment he wished he'd had his old cross-bow; but the thought passed. He had no need to hunt for sustenance and never understood hunting for sport.

C-r-a-c-k! A shot rang out. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed. "God damned hunters!" The Buck dropped where he stood. The Doe, in sheer panic bolted to the safety of the woods, within yards of him.

You never hear the one that gets you. It simply felt like he'd been struck in the chest by a Mack truck. He grunted and stumbled back. Not a second later, the projectile having entered cleanly between ribs, spread as designed to do and began inflicting damage. He felt searing pain as lung tissue macerated; blood vessels ruptured. He felt warm wetness spread beneath his jacket and it was only moments more before his shirts were soaked in blood. He unzipped his jacket and cursed at the bubbling wound. _Fuckers punctured a lung._ He gasped and choked. Blood bubbled in his throat making him gag. Leaning over, he spewed bloody phlegm mixed with the contents of his stomach.

He heard voices nearby: hunters. He'd first planned on giving the trespassers a severe chewing-out the moment they'd tried to collect their prize. But now, disgusted with their carelessness; pain-fueled rage boil in his veins. With a roar heard throughout the campus, Logan sprung his claws. Pushing back agony, he stalked from the sheltering woods, coming within spitting distance of two young men intent on snagging the Buck.

Copping an offensive stance, Logan roared again. The intruders froze, their complexions going white as the surrounding snow. "Holy shit! What the hell is that? Oh my God!"

"Ya got ten seconds to get the fuck outta here," Logan growled and threatened with his claws, "or else!"

Frozen in place by abject fear, the hunters could only tremble. Logan made a move toward them. They backed away, though not fast enough for his liking. Looking the part of homicidal maniac, he thrust his claws toward them. They screamed, turned, dropped their rifles and sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them.

Circumstances that were, his rage was short-lived. Thinking about the look on their faces, Logan guessed they probably ruined their underwear as they fled and laughed. Not his wisest move; laughter transmuted into vice like constriction in his chest bringing another fit of choking and a mouthful of bloody mucous which he spat with a rude hack.

Adrenalin reverted to normal and his healing factor kicked into high gear with its usual torments. He trudged toward his office, hoping to get there before the worst hit. It wasn't to be. His chest burned like acid had been poured into it. Raging fever consumed him and he grew dizzy and nauseated. He made it as far as the pond-side gazebo before becoming incapacitated. Doubled over, coughing and puking, he expelled bullet fragments. When the symptoms eased he slumped, back against a supporting column, eyes closed, trying to regulate his breath and control his roiling gut. He fished bits of projectile out from between bloodied shirts, cursed the tiny tormentors and stuffed them in his jeans pocket. _This'll be worth a few brag points,_ he thought. _Don't wanna know how many I hacked up. _Brag points aside, he resigned himself to a rough morning. To another a wound of this magnitude could be life threatening. To him it was an annoyance, though the process of healing was in no way a joy-ride.

His cell phone vibrated against his waist and he jumped. "Shit!" he muttered. "Yeah," he rasped.

The voice he heard was hearty, husky, not exactly masculine, but deep. "Is this Logan?"

"Uh huh."

"This is Sandra Chapman…"

Logan cut in, "Yeah, saw that." The caller ID displayed Chapman & Assoc.

"Got your wife's message. I'd like to meet with you right away. My office's not far. Could you meet me at nine?"

"Can't get away from here 'til tonight."

"Won't do." After a moment of silence, she offered, "All right, then I'll come to you. Is nine still a good time?"

"Whenever ya like."

"Excellent. Look forward to chatting."

With that the connection went dead leaving Logan somewhat perplexed by a lack of small talk that usually accompanied conversations with women.

Still wheezing and hacking up blood, though significantly less than a few minutes ago, he made for his office. Draped across the dilapidated couch was a sweat shirt; a bit ripe, but it'd do for the short run. Stripping off jacket, flannel shirt and t-shirt, he cursed the ruin of yet another leather jacket and tossed the items into the waste basket. Examining the wound site there was little evidence to show that he'd been shot except for slight puckering and redness just above his right nipple and that was dissipating fast. Sniff-checking the sweat shirt and wrinkling his nose, he pulled it over his head with a grunt. There was still a lot of healing to be done internally. _Note to self, _he thought,_ slow and easy. _He picked up the phone and punched 'Memory' then 'number one'.

_Hello._

"Hey. When ya gettin' here?"

_Umm. Not for a while. Why?_

"Can ya bring me a shirt?"

_Ok. What for?_

"Got mine messed up."

_Logan, define messed up._

"Tell ya 'bout it when ya get here."

_No! Tell me about it now._

A protracted silence was followed by a deep sigh culminating in a stifled cough, "Got a hole in it."

_Where've I heard this before? Logan, are you ok?_

Lying like a rug, he replied, "I'm cool. Don't worry."

_Oohh-kaay, _Susan's reply was drawn out, reflecting doubt. _I've got to stop by the hospital and pick up some stuff. Can you hold out 'til about ten?_

"Guess I'll hafta. What's up with the hospital_?"_

_Ethics Committee stuff. Got the MRA mandates. We're supposed to review them and make recommendations for compliance._

Flatly, he responded_, "_Yippee_." _

_Oh yeah, I'm thrilled._

"Ok darlin', see ya later—Oh hey, Susie?"

_Yes?_

"That Chapman chick called. Gotta meeting set up;" he glanced at his watch, "aw shit, in a couple minutes! Gotta run. Love ya."

She laughed at his ill-conceived notion of Sandra Chapman and said,_ Love ya too, _though wasn't sure he'd heard.

Briefing Charles was the next order of business. Locating him as he wheeled through the main hall Logan asked, "Gotta few minutes?"

Immediately Charles noticed something not quite right. "Always," he replied.

Once inside Charles' plush office suite, Logan pulled the fragments from his pocket and dropped them on the desktop. "We gotta do something about outer perimeter security."

Charles raised a questioning eyebrow.

Logan continued. "Same trouble spot; Sector six. Deer hunters this time. Piss-poor shots, too. Nailed _me_, instead."

Concern and frustration clouded Charles face. "Do you need medical attention?"

Logan sneered. He wasn't going to dignify the question with an answer. "Look Charles, I've said all along security sucks out there. If it'd been anybody but me, we'd be dealing with more than a deer carcass."

"Agreed. The repellant field booster continually fails…"

Frustrated, he interrupted, "Fails! It's been hosed up from the time I installed the damn thing. I swear we'd be better off with electrified barb-wire."

"Not an option."

"Just what the fuck are our options then?"

"Logan, I understand your frustration. "

He glared at Charles.

"Our goals are the same; safety. But, this is not a prison or military installation. It's paramount to keep every one safe without making them feel institutionalized. How would you have reacted two years ago had you awakened in a place like you're proposing?"

He drew a frustrated breath and coughed, nearly loosing control. "Ya gotta point," he managed in a whisper.

"Logan, are you certain you don't need medical attention?"

Waving Charles off, he continued, voice regaining resonance, "Vic and I'll get out there and see what we can do. Don't wanna leave without fixin' it."

"You're efforts are appreciated."

The phone buzzed on Charles desk. Pushing the intercom button, Marie's voice: _Professor, is Logan there? _Hearing his name, Logan snapped to attention.

"He is."

_Well, tell 'im he's got a visitor._

Logan answered, "On my way, kid." Before actually exiting the room Charles sent a thought.

Surprised, Logan said, "Your kiddin'?"

"Not at all," Charles replied, wheeling past. "I'm meeting with Hank in the med-lab so you'll be uninterrupted. Besides, if I know Sandra Chapman, she'd rather not venture any further into the school than absolutely necessary."

"You know her?"

"Quite well, Logan. You've made a wise choice for an attorney."

Logan smirked, chagrinned over Charles seamless ability to know all.

"By the way, you may wish to consider a fresh shirt," Charles teased.

"That bad?"

Charles gave a slight nod, "Please give her my regards," he entreated before departing.

_Too late now, _Logan thought and proceeded to the foyer.

The woman matched her voice; a no-nonsense, take-control attitude; nearly as tall as he; stocky, though not overweight. She could have been anywhere between forty five and fifty five and wore the mileage well. She wore no make up and didn't color her graying, short- cropped hair. Her attire was simple, business-like and he guessed on the pricey side, too.

Thrusting out her hand, she commented, "I finally get to meet the enigmatic Logan."

He wasn't sure how to take her comment. But her handshake was firm; he sensed genuine goodness and she was a friend of Susan's. "The one and only," he replied with forced levity.

She was intuitive, as well. "Don't worry. I've only heard good things about you. Listening to Sue sometimes, I'd think you hung the moon."

He grinned arrogantly.

The front door opened unexpectedly. "Oh hello," Susan's voice echoed in the cavernous foyer. Like a mini-whirlwind, she pecked him on the cheek and handed him the shirts. "Just had a feeling you might want these sooner rather than later." The fact that he flinched when she brushed against his chest didn't escape notice but she gave no reaction.

Quickly, she embraced Sandra, "Happy Hanukah! I can't tell you how grateful we are for your help."

Not one for idle chatter, Sandra Chapman quickly took control. "Lemme hear the story before you two start bestowing gratitude and I'm pressed for time, as usual. Is there a place to talk?"

Uncharacteristically, "Yes ma'am," slipped out of his mouth. "Charles' office."

"Sue, can you stay?" Sandra inquired.

She glanced at her watch. "For about twenty minutes."

"That should be enough. I want to hear Logan's version of things and it's important you hear it too."

"Already have," Susan reiterated while getting comfortable in a cushioned chair.

"Of course; but it's important you're in on everything that goes on. Just in case this thing really goes forward, you know?"

Susan nodded somberly.

Sandra addressed Logan, "Ok, tell me everything from the first minute you encountered Howard Lippincott the evening of December tenth."

After Logan recounted that night, Sandra sat quietly, obviously in contemplation. Thedeposition was interrupted by his cell phone. Glancing at the ID, he muttered,"Damn!" It was Elizabeth calling early. "'Scuze me."

"Hello.—Can I call ya back?—Yeah, 'bout half an hour.—Sorry; thanks"

"Logan, what's your mutation?"

He was puzzled by the question. "What's it matter?"

"It might not matter; but I want all cards on the table."

"What's yours?"

Sandra paused, clearly surprised. "Uh, how did you know?"

Logan gave a tight lipped smile. "That's one of 'em. I can smell mutants."

She chuckled. "Ok. One of them, you said? What else?"

Logan inhaled, shook his head back and forth and reluctantly continued. "All my senses and reflexes are keener than Normals; I heal fast and um, I don't seem to age."

"How old are you?"

"Birth certificate say's fifty four."

"Bottle that and sell it," she quipped.

"That's what they all say."

"Guy's I gotta run," Susan cut in. With an inquisitive glance at him, she added, "We'll_ talk_ later."

He replied, "Yep, see ya later, darlin'," understanding her unspoken meaning.

Sandra piped up, "We'll get together after the holidays. I might need a deposition from you."

"Anything you need, girlfriend."

Sandra turned her attention back to Logan. "Is there anything else I need to know? About that night; about you?"

"Yeah." Apprehension was written all over him. "Don't know if it's pertinent; but since you said it was important to lay everything out;" With outstretched arms, all six claws slid into view, "and my bones are covered in the same metal."

It took effort, but Sandra didn't flinch. "Claws aside, how much extra force does a. . ." she grappled for the words, "a metal frame, uh skeleton give you?"

He retracted the claws. "When I need it, enough."

"We're gonna need to keep this under our hats. Who, besides close associates and family, knows about this?"

"Geez, I dunno. I got a list of enemies; ya want that?"

"If they're pertinent to the case."

"Nah, they're not. If you're asking does anybody at the hospital or clinic where Sue works know, then the answer's no. Wait, Paula Wellbourne might but I'm not sure. I'd hafta ask Sue."

"That's your homework," Sandra said, "wrack your brains between now and our next meeting for any one who might know."

"So you're taking the case?"

"If you want me. Honestly, with no witnesses, Lippincott's questionable health and several other factors; there is no criminal case. And if it goes the civil route, which could get ugly and expensive, I think we can stop that freight train, too."

Logan grinned, relieved at positive news for a change. "You never told me what your mutation is."

"So I didn't." Taking a deep breath she began to wiggle her fingers, stretching them to unnatural lengths. The bones in her hand also became ductile, rippling beneath her skin likes snakes as flesh narrowed and elongated. Her arm up to the elbow became sinuous and flexing it caused the stretched portion to undulate.

Logan watched, transfixed. Well waddaya know, he thought, she's a living, breathing Stretch Armstrong and muttered, "Whoa."

"Not terribly useful, I'm afraid," she said sounding vexed. "Enough about me. Back to business. First, call our friend Detective Terrasino and give him my number. Then, you two go off on your holiday and relax." She stood, offered her hand and added, "There's no need for you to discuss this situation with anyone and I recommend you don't. From now on, refer everyone to me."

"You got that," he replied, a trace of a smile on his lips. Sincerely shaking her hand, he said, "Thanks," and escorted her to the door.

"What was that all about?" Marie asked as Logan closed the door.

"Nosy, ain't ya kid." A twinkle in his eye contradicted his gruff reply.

"Uh huh; and how come ya got those shirts?" She pointed to the fresh ones Susan brought.

"Other ones got messed up and for your other question, can't go into it. Okay?"

Marie pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and offered a flippant, "Whatever."

"Know where Vic is?" he inquired, changing shirts.

"Be still my racing heart," she teased, though meant it. (Shirtless, Logan had that effect on most women.) Then, feigning offense, scolded, "Locker rooms are down the hall to the left or below ground; and Vic's in the hanger, I think."

"Thanks," he said beating a path to the elevator.

"What, you're not gonna change outta your jeans?" Marie teased before the doors hissed closed.

Logan found Vic Marquez half inside an engine hatch slinging Spanish profanities.

"Trouble?" he asked.

Vic's reply, in Spanish, was ripe.

"Got one more thing to make your day."

"¿Como?"

"Repellant shield's down in six again."

Vic uttered another expletive. "Ok, gimme five minutes."

"Take ten; gotta make a call. Meet ya in the garage?"

"Si. Gracias."

Flipping open his cell phone he frowned. No signal. Susan's office was closer so he thought of making the call from there but changed his mind. Electra was treating patients in the adjoining clinic. Using the short cut through her office to his, he punched the number. It rang several times.

He heard a precise, modulated, "Howlett residence. How may I assist you?"

"Phillip? It's Logan. Is, uh, Elizabeth there?"

Condescendingly, the butler replied, "Yes sir. A moment, please."

He thought, _same to ya, bub. Know ya don't think much o' me. Suck it up_. He wasn't certain what Phillip had against him; being a mutant or still believing he was a con? Logan stared out the window, drumming his fingers on the sill, rehearsing what he'd say. _Wonder what kinda mood the ol' gal's in?_ Suddenly he felt nervous; palm sweating, heart racing, gut cramping nervous as a repressed memory flowed like a dream.

_A young boy raced through the house, shouting exuberantly. "Where's mother?" he questioned the old butler who'd mysteriously appeared from what seemed nowhere. "In the solarium taking tea. I wouldn't disturb—". Too late, young Logan or James as he was known then, sprinted off. Remembering some manners, he slowed his pace approaching the room, but self absorbed as most eight year olds are, he didn't pick up on his mother's mood. "Mom, Mom. Tom wants to take me fishing. Can I—" _

_Elizabeth Howlett glared at her son with fire in her eyes. Like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck, he froze. In a menacing voice she lit into him. "Are you stupid, Jamie? I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed."_

_He stammered, "I'm s-sorry."_

"_I don't want apologies boy. I want obedience." Ranting, her voice became shrill. "Does no one in this household follow my orders? I'm surrounded my complete incompetence." __He backed away. "Did I tell you to move?" she spat. _

_Whispering, "No ma'am," he felt an urgent need to escape. Episodes like these made him sick to his stomach. _

_She knew how he reacted and waved him off in disgust. "I don't care what you do. Just make sure I'm not disturbed again. And if you must be ill, I don't want to know about it."_

Her warm voice broke his concentration. "James! I was surprised to get your E-mail. Is everything all right?"

His mouth felt dry and he almost stammered. Inhaling to regain control, he answered, "Yeah, fine." Shaking his head, forcing the memory and uneasiness away, he went straight to the point. "Listen Elizabeth, I need your help."

"Of course son." She sounded surprised and concerned. "What can I do?"

He didn't stammer, but the words stuck in his throat. "Can you—help me arrange—a legal marriage?" He mentally booted himself. _Get it together, Asshole. She's your mother, for chrissake. All that shit happened in another life; gotta let it go. _Silence reigned for several moments, doing nothing to bolster his confidence.

"I—I suppose I can. What do you need me to do?"

_Ok, she's receptive. Must be takin' her meds. Battle's half won._ "Did you read the attachment to my mail?"

"Yes."

"Can you put me in touch with the right people to make this happen on the twenty ninth or thirtieth?"

"Today? It's Christmas Eve. People have taken Holiday."

"I know; but I gotta do this now."

"I suppose I still have a few connections. I'll try. James, I must ask, why is this suddenly so important?"

"It's complicated and I'd rather not go into it on the phone."

"Is there some sort of trouble?"

_You could say that,_ he thought. "Like I said, it's—"

"Complicated. Very well, son. I'll make some calls."

"Thanks; and Elizabeth, I haven't said anything to Sue, so call me on my cell—please."

"Would you rather I mail you?"

"No; not secure enough."

"I see. All right, I'll call you the minute it's arranged. Bye."

"Thanks." The connection quit just as he thought about what she'd said._ All_ _arranged? Awww, no way!_ He just wanted to connect with the right people; make the arrangements himself. He thought about calling back but repairing the breach in sector six was urgent. Making his way to meet Vic, he berated himself. _Yer a paranoid idiot, bub. Don't need secrecy. Hell, if ya'd had a clue earlier coulda done this right the first time. Shit! Last thing I need is to be beholdin' to her. Never mind, ya already are. _He mentally ticked off the debt.

"¿Que paso?" Vic queried upon seeing the troubled look Logan wore.

"Nada, amigo," he fibbed and quickly diverted the conversation. "Take my truck. We got an eight-point buck carcass to haul back."

Vic seemed surprised, "Really! The shield get it?"

Logan held up a slug fragment, "Nope."

He nodded then did a double take. "Um, where'd that come—"

Logan patted his chest.

Shocked, he exclaimed, "Mi Dios!. You ok?"

Logan nodded casually. No one spoke until they got to the repellent shield booster, a nondescript, dark green fiberglass box hidden among underbrush. Once they set to task conversation consisted of grunts, curses, gimme this tool, check this, more curses and grunts. Logan cheered, "We're good," detecting a low hum outside range of normal hearing.

"Wanna crank the power?" Vic suggested.

"Nah—Yeah, give about twenty percent more."

The noise increased. "Better test it," Vicsuggested, tossing a rock. It repelled like an expertly pitched baseball.

"Ye-hah! That'll do 'er," Logan exclaimed. "Cut back about ten percent."

"Ya think?"

"No, we'll just leave it and get sued by some moron who breaks his neck walking into it."

"Like they can't read the danger, no trespassing signs every ten feet."

Logan shrugged.

Vic joked, "Can X-Men get fired for negligence?"

"Make my day," Logan replied, copping a phrase Clint Eastwood made popular. Setting out across open ground then squatting, he admired the buck. "Damn shame," he muttered. Attempting to haul the animal back, he got a pointed reminder of his injury.

Noticing him falter, Vic went to his aid.

"Thanks, man. Insides ain't a hundred percent yet."

"A deer slug?" Vic re-emphasized, "Guess not." He grabbed the carcass. "Come on, ya gimp."

"Gimme thirty minutes and then try callin' me gimp," he replied gruffly.

Vic glanced at his friend, ascertaining threat. There was none. Pointing to the deer in the truck bed he asked, "What ya gonna do with that?"

"Clean it down and freeze it. Want some venison steaks?"

"Yeah! I'll get Electra to make y'all some chorizo." With a sly grin he added, "What I wanna see you do is sweet talk Mrs. Burns. Don't think she's gonna take to fresh game in her freezer."

"Ain't a woman on the planet I can't sweet talk," Logan answered smugly.

Vic laughed, "Cocky S.O. B., ain't ya?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Authors Notes: Lot's of thanks goes to all my reviewers and especially my special helpers. You two know who you are. **

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

It was smooth sailing for the rest of the day, or so it seemed. Side effects of the gunshot wound were long gone. The Lippincott mess seemed under control. Mrs. Burns hadn't needed any sweet talking to convince her to store the venison. The icing was his mother's second phone call. She arranged everything. Valid Identification was the only requirement.

The moment Susan returned Logan sensed trouble. He thought, aw shit! Now what? Greeting her with a kiss, his face clouded with concern, "What's a matter?"

She chewed her bottom lip. Frustration and confusion twisted her expression, "I stopped by to pick the boys up and they weren't there."

"Ok. Where are they?"

"Christine said they went to hang out with Travis' friends."

Logan shrugged. He didn't get it.

"They know they're supposed to let me know when they go anywhere."

"Let you or whoever's got weekend custody?"

She huffed, "Logan, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do, but look at it this way; Christine knew and they're supposed to be with us tonight. We're not on duty yet."

She glared daggers and snapped, "You don't clock on or off when it comes to parenting."

"I understand that," he replied with equal intensity. Breathing deeply to calm himself, "Lemme ask ya something. Did you let 'em know you were coming early?"

Embarrassed, she stared at the floor, "No."

"I think you set yourself up, darlin'."

Susan frowned, "Oh shut up." Silence fell. Her frown eased, replaced by her usual serene glow. "What'd you think of Sandra?"

"Neat lady," he grinned, "She's taking the case."

"Of course." She wore a smug grin.

Envisioning disappearing dollar bills, he queried, "Um Susie, how much is she gonna cost?"

"What? I didn't hear you."

He grumbled, "Yeah, right. How much?"

"It's going to cost whatever it takes to make it go away."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"Logan, she's not going to take us to the cleaners. She the best at what she does and the best doesn't come cheaply. And by the way, what she does_ is_ nicer."

He winced, "Ok, slam dunk, darlin'. Don't know 'bout that though. Lawyers ain't usually nice in my book."

"I promise neither of us'll regret hiring her. Now, tell me what happened with your shirts."

He chuckled, "Told ya, I gotta hole in 'em."

She stood, hands planted firmly on her hips, "How?"

"Don't matter now," he gestured dismissively. "It's over and done with."

She tipped back her head, rolled her eyes and scolded, "Oh, don't go there with me James Andrew! You looked like death warmed over this morning." Softly, she coaxed, "Tell me."

"All right," he surrendered, "walk with me and I will."

He didn't get half the story out before she blathered about how painful it must have been, how lucky he was it wasn't worse and scolded about not getting medical attention.

Midway between her and his office, he stopped suddenly, grabbed her gently by the shoulders and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

Eyes wide with surprise, "Mmmph! What was that for?"

"Girls talk too much." He cocked an eyebrow, "Darlin, I'm fine. Remember a little thing called a healing factor?"

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Super hero." Playfully, she returned a kiss. "You may take it for granted but I don't think I ever will." Holding hands, they walked along the flagstone path. "Girls talk too much? Bright Eyes, that wasn't your way of saying shut up, was it?

"'Course not, darlin'."

"Liar."

"I swear! But it is my way to getcha over here. Gotta little surprise." With a flourish, he opened the multi-paned glass door.

"What? Oh Logan please, no surprises. We've had enough of those lately, ya know?"

"No shit!" he chuckled. "This's a surprise I think your gonna appreciate. Close your eyes."

"No."

"Come on. Please," he begged. "It'll be worth it."

She huffed, "Oh fine."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, led her across the room and winked at Electra who'd heard them come in and quietly watched from the nurse's desk. Next, he placed her hands on the surprise and directed enthusiastically, "Now, open your eyes."

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped. "Logan, this is beautiful. You made this didn't you?" Tears pooled in her eyes. "This is just…beautiful, wonderful," she repeated, turned and wrapped her arms around him. "You're wonderful. I love you."

He hugged her back, "Merry Christmas, my love."

Noticing Electra, Susan pulled herself together, "Did you know about this?"

Electra moved close, smiling, "Si."

Both women admired it: A double cradle crafted in cherry wood. The side slats were ornately lathed and the header and footer were carved with the twins names. Space was left to carve their birth date.

She babbled leaving no gap for reply, "Where'd you do this? How did you find the time? You never told me you knew woodworking.You're—"

He touched her lips with his finger, "Sshh! I'll tell ya."

She stopped in mid phrase, mouthed 'Oh', pursed her lips and grinned sheepishly.

"Picked up wordworkin' a couple years ago. One o' those odd jobs on the road. Been working on it for a couple weeks."

"Odd jobs! Logan, this is exquisite," she gushed and kissed him. "It even matches the nursery furniture."

He shrugged, though the grin spread across his face wasn't modest. "Ladies, gotta get back to work. Promised Vic I'd help him with the jet."

"Better get to it, miho. You make my husband late for the party tonight—" Electra let the threat hang.

"Logan," Susan asked, "are you gonna make it home in time to change?"

"Didn't think about it."

"I'll take that as no. Would you like me to bring something?"

"Long as ya promise it's not the suit," he said making his way out.

"Oh, come on." She winked at Electra, "Wouldn't you like to see him in a suit? You'd never believe it was the same guy."

He heard. Peeking around the door frame, he grumbled, "Susan, you can bring it but I ain't wearin' it."

"Relax! I wouldn't do that to you. Cords and a button down shirt?"

He gave her thumbs up and dashed to the hangar.

"Oh, the domestication of Logan," she laughed. "It's a never ceasing challenge."

"There's worse things," Electra added.

'True." Susan sat at her computer terminal and charted. "How'd things go this morning?"

"Aside from dispensing tampons and band aids, absolutely dead. Oh wait, I take it back. Jubilee complained of an upset stomach."

"Oh please, what's the drama princess got?"

"Something that's gonna get her in hot water—again."

"What now?"

"Not sure if the upset stomach had anything to do with it, but seems she's been smoking."

"Oh that kid! Guess I'll be doing a talk on that after the break."

"I wouldn't worry too much. I suggested that her favorite teacher might less inclined to let her take driver's ed. next semester."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, your significant other's teaching D.E."

"Logan?" Susan laughed, "Scott's gonna have a fit. Whose looney idea was that?"

"His, I think."

"Really?" Imagining it her eyes twinkled, "Can't wait to hear how this evolved. Anything scheduled. this afternoon?"

"No."

"Good. I'm going home. I've got baking to do and I'm gonna try to take a nap. It's going to be a very late night and I haven't slept for beans lately."

"What're you baking?"

"Strudel and tortierre."

"¿Que tortierrre?"

"Umm, it's a pie filled with picadillo, but not exactly. It's something Logan's mother said he liked. I hope she's right. What are you guys contributing?"

"Tamales. Vic and I were up late last night wrapping them."

"Oh gosh," her expression wistful, "I haven't had homemade tamales in forever."

Annoyed, Electra explained, "Yeah, and it'll be forever before I do it again. Vic's idea of helping is wrap a few, drink a few beers and watch me wrap a few more"

Susan chuckled, "There's a man for you. At least when Logan takes on a kitchen project, he pretty much shoos me away, but the beer's always close by. Ok girlfriend, I'm outta here. Call my cell if anything comes up."

Returning that evening, Susan pulled into her parking spot. She punched a button on her cell phone and got Logan's voice mail. Sighing, she left a message, "It's me. I'm outside and could really use help unloading the car."

Meanwhile, Logan heard his phone trill, "That's for me."

Vic hadn't heard it. "What?"

"Phone," he replied, lowering himself from the jets' engine hatch. "Hey man," he called out after listening to the message, "Susie needs me."

"Right. Almost done anyway. Later, amigo."

Logan caught up to her just after she'd hauled in the first load. He sniffed the aroma wafting from the car and his stomach growled. She laughed. "Hey darlin'," he greeted with a peck on her cheek. "What smells so good?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He stuck his head inside the car, "Cinnamon, nutmeg, apples, ground pork," he reached for the double pie stacker.

"Hand that over please," she demanded. "Take the other one."

Instantly curious, he asked, "Why?" and fiddled with the lid.

Playfully slapping his fingers, she scolded, "It's a surprise for later."

"For me?"

"No Logan, for the Grinch."

"That'd be me then."

"You're cute." She handed him another plastic container, "Take this to the kitchen and git your buns back here quick."

"Pfffft!" he replied.

"Pffft to you too," she mimicked before adding, "Logan—love you."

"'Course ya do, darlin'," he winked, " 'specially when ya got me slavin' away."

By the third trip Logan's attention span and patience reached its limit. "What the hell is all this stuff?" he grumbled.

"Christmas presents for everybody."

A sour look crossed his face, "What for?"

Arranging brightly wrapped boxes around a tree in the recreation room, she replied, "I'm not even going to answer that ya ol' Scrooge."

"Compared to the Grinch, is Scrooge a promotion or demotion?" he asked on the final trip to the car.

"Don't know," she drawled. "Figure it out." She pulled a final box out, "This is for you. It's supposed to be for tomorrow but I figured you might like it tonight instead."

His eyes twinkled but he couldn't resist commenting, "Seems like a waste wrapping stuff up like this," and wasted no time slashing open the package. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, lifting out a brand new leather bomber jacket.

She helped him slip it on, "You're welcome," and fussed with his shirt collar.

He pulled her close and planted a wet kiss on her mouth, "That thank you enough?"

She chuckled, "Not near enough," sensuously offering her lips for more.

Susan got busy, helping with celebration preparations, while Logan did a final security sweep of the grounds before turning watch duty over. He grabbed a fast shower, changed into the clothes she brought and made quick for the recreation room and a huge silver bowlful of eggnog.

"How is it?" he asked the large, blue mutant who'd arrived first.

Hank McCoy sipped elegantly and pronounced, "Nearly perfect. I bit more something but I'm not certain what."

Logan filled his cup and swallowed in one gulp. "More whiskey's what it needs. I'll see what I can scrounge up," and headed for the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of amaretto. Affecting mock chastisement, he said, "I was informed by the kitchen witches that whiskey's not what it needs."

"Never argue with a kitchen witch," Hank concurred. "Amaretto?"

Logan shrugged, dumped half the bottle in the bowl, gave it a stir and took another sample, "I'll be damned. It's good."

"Indeed!" Hank raised his cup, "Cheers!"

"Salut!"

"Gentlemen," Ororo called cheerfully from the doorway, "we need some brawn and brains. Anybody in here qualify?"

"Get the feeling were about to be drafted for something?" Logan murmured.

"With out a doubt," Hank murmured back. Making his way across the room, he bowed and replied, "At your service, lovely lady."

"Skirt chaser," Logan muttered close at his heels.

"To the kitchen, boys. Time to cart in the feast," Ororo announced.

"Hey Ro," Logan glanced up. A spray of greenery and ribbon hung from the arched doorframe, "What's that thing?"

"Huh?" She looked up. "That's mistle—" Her words were cut by a friendly kiss.

She laughed, "Getting into the spirit, huh Logan?"

"Why not?"

"I'm glad to see it. A smile suits you every now and then."

"Ms. Monroe," Hank interrupted, "I stand humbly before you awaiting my chance under the mistletoe." Playfully, he shoved Logan aside, "Excuse me," and kissed her.

"All right, you've both got your bribe, now to work."

"Yes'm," Logan saluted as Hank replied; "Lead on, my sweet."

In no time a parade of faculty and students filled buffet tables with an international smorgasbord designed to woo the most discriminating gourmand. Hank and Logan took advantage of the mistletoe at every opportunity, timing their trips from the kitchen to coincide with anyone feminine.

Logan spotted Marie about to dip into the eggnog. "Hey kid, lemme see some I.D."

With a flippant shrug she complained, "Oh come on, it's Christmas. Ain't drivin' ta-night."

With a guarded smile, he warned, "Potent stuff, go easy."

She answered with a wink, "Ah will."

Distracted conversing with Marie, Susan managed to nab Logan under the mistletoe first. "Gotcha, Bright Eyes!"

Her kiss struck him odd. She embraced him tightly, kissed him playfully but her scent was wrong.

Rumor has it you've been hogging the mistletoe," she murmured.

"Since when have you ever bought into rumors, darlin'?"

"I don't. That's why I'm checking it out for myself."

"And what have you discovered?"

"You're hogging the mistletoe." She pulled him closer, "I catch you smooching Storm and it ain't going to be pretty," she hissed in his ear.

He raised both eyebrows, stunned, and thought, holy shit, she's jealous! He almost reacted in anger but quickly recalled their fight the other night. Never should've lost it and told her 'bout shackin' up with Storm. Time for some extreme damage control.

Making a rare show of public affection, he swept her back and kissed her passionately. She gasped, blushed.

A few hoots rang out. Somebody cheered, "Way to go, Logan." Some one else questioned, "What's in that eggnog anyway?" Marie didn't hear their verbal exchange and commented, "Gosh Logan, how come ya didn't kiss me like that when I was under the mistletoe?" He glared at her with a look that screamed inappropriate question, kid.

Suddenly aware of attention drawn to them, Susan pushed away and changed the subject. "Did you figure out the surprise?"

He thought for a second, "What?"

"What you were being so nosy about in the car."

"Oh yeah, tortierre."

Pulling him toward the buffet, far from the mistletoe, "Your mother sent the recipe; said you loved it when you were a kid."

"That what she said?" Logan kissed her again, trying to remember if it was true. It wasn't but considering Susan's volatile emotions he didn't have the heart to tell her the only reason he liked it was because he got to light the brandy.

"Darlin', it's kinda tough filling my plate with you hanging onto my arm like this."

"So it is. Sorry." She dropped her arm to her side. "I suppose you can't get into too much trouble stuffing your face."

"Not going any where near the mistletoe unless you're with me."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to me. I don't know where that came from."

He wanted to scream or wring her neck. How about both? Give me strength, he thought, to survive this fucked up emotional roller coaster she's on. He shook his head, "Whatever ya say, Susie. Come on," he pointed to the fireplace, "let's talk to Vic and Electra"

A few minutes later, she glanced at her watch, "The boy's aren't here."

"Haven't seen 'em. What time did you tell 'em to be here?"

"Seven."

"It's only seven-fifteen."

"Hmmm. Guess so. Traffic's probably heavy coming from Rye Brook." Heading toward the foyer, she said, "I'm going to call and see what's holding them up. Behave yourself while I'm gone."

Logan snorted, choking back a snide comment. The naughty child treatment was wearing thin, especially in front of good friends.

"What was that about?" Vic asked.

"Long story," Logan grumbled and wondered when he'd be allowed out of the proverbial dog house. "Need another drink. How 'bout you guys?"

Half a mile from Xavier's School, Matthew Harris blasted, "Dude there is no way I'm going in there and telling mom you're not coming."

"Come on twit, help me out."

"Nah ah. How come you don't wanna come anyway?"

"Cuz—I can't. Look Matt, it's complicated. Hanging out at Xavier's School's just not cool, ya know?"

"Since when? Thought you and Jubilee had something going last summer."

Travis slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "Don't you ever fuckin' say that again."

Matthew flinched as if struck. "Geez. What's your deal? She dump you or something?"

"None o' your business. Take some advice little bro', don't cozy up to Mutants."

"You're crazy, dude," Matthew sneered and fell silent, digesting Travis' strange counsel.

Travis' red truck pulled into the circular drive in front of the mansion. Spotting his mother waiting on the porch, he muttered, "Shit!"

Matthew snickered, "Guess you are gonna hafta tell her anyway." He jumped out, bounded up the steps and hugged his mother.

Fifteen minutes later, Logan noticed she'd not returned. Excusing himself from conversation, he set out in search. He spotted her and the boys at the front door. From the expressions of the boys' faces that he could see and her posture with her back to him, tension was obvious. A bit closer and he smelled hurt feelings, anger and frustration wafting from Susan.

Travis and Matthew spotted him. Travis barely acknowledged him and continued to argue with her, while Matthew frowned nervously, "Hey Logan."

Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he interrupted, "Something wrong?"

"….Mom I'm sorry. I made other plans," Travis explained. "I promise I show up for Mass tonight."

"Travis, we're always together Christmas Eve," Susan remarked firmly.

Pleading, he continued, "Mom, I just got back from the Point. I haven't seen my buds since July. The Krissman's are having a party. Everybody's gonna be there."

Logan sensed nervousness and confusion from both boys. More troublesome was deceitfulness coming from Travis. Not that he was lying but more like hiding something. He took a deep breath, about to say something but changed his mind despite alarm bells in his mind. It was a personal code never to inject his opinions into matters between Susan and her boys unless specifically invited to. He'd get a chance later because she always sought his opinion.

"Mom, I love ya," Travis planted a smooch on her cheek. "Ya know I wouldn't miss your solo. See ya midnight." Before she could reply, he jumped into the truck and sped off.

Susan looked like she might cry. Matt reminded Logan of a rodent trapped in the middle of a freeway. Which ever direction he chose, he'd end up road kill. Calmly Logan instructed, "Matt, go on inside. Lemme talk to your Mom."

"Trav's a moron," he muttered. "Yes sir," he said crisply and joined the party.

Logan put his arm around Susan, pulled her back inside and closed the door. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea. We're always together Christmas Eve." Her voice quivered, "It's tradition."

Logan gently suggested, "Maybe he's feeling independent. Kid's eighteen, ya know."

"I suppose," she sighed sadly. "But, it's just so sudden," again her mood changed. "He should have let me know his plans sooner."

"Yeah, I guess you can nail him on that. I don't know about you but I can remember the last place I wanted to be at his age was around anybody over thirty. Hell, sometimes I still feel that way."

"Suppose you had a t-shirt with Never Trust Any Body Over 30 on it."

He chuckled, "Probably. Come on, darlin', don't let this ruin the night. You can have a talk with him tomorrow."

-oOo-

Logan fidgeted, taking in the splendor of the cathedral. Ok, he though, didn't get struck by lightning, pillars didn't crumble to dust. He'd turned his back on organized religion, what forty years ago? How many years had it been since he'd been in any house of worship? Staring at the candle- lit advent wreath, he recalled the last time; his wife and sons' funeral pyre, the same Shinto temple he and Mariko married in. He pushed the memory back, focusing instead on the comfort of Susan's voice clearly audible to him from several yards away.

A large group from Xavier's School attended midnight Mass. The Marquez's and Kurt out of tradition. Ororo came along out of respect for Kurt and to hear Susan perform, as did Hank, Marie and Bobby. It was unusual for Beast and Nightcrawler to leave the anonymity of Xavier's but armed with image projectors, they blended into the congregation.

Travis appeared just as Mass began. Observing, Logan noticed a look of consternation cloud the boys face as he took note of the attendees. Travis ignored a saved seat next to Matthew, instead choosing a seat across the aisle. Logan glanced inquisitively across the aisle. Travis refused to acknowledge it and motioned for Matthew to join him but the younger boy refused. Logan smelled confusion and guilt again coming from Matthew and as the parishioners stood, he moved next to his brother.

Negativity emoting from both boys, especially Travis, set Logan on edge. There had been a huge change since Logan had last been in his company. What caused it?

The lights dimmed, interrupting his internal debate. Lectors recited the Christmas story from the Book of Luke. He chuckled, amazed at how much he remembered. Stryker's goons couldn't erase what the nuns and brothers had hammered into his head in eight years of Catholic schooling. A collection basket passed by and he whipped out his wallet. Twenty dollar bills were all he had. Guess it'd be tacky to take out change, he thought. He forced his thoughts away from the boys and made a game of remembering what came next. Clasping of hands during the Lords Prayer and peace offering caused him a moment of consternation.

Catholic School brainwashing held sway and he almost queued up for Holy Communion. Hold up, he told himself, ya ain't gone to confession in forty years and there's a little caveat about bein' a mortal sinner. The Communicants passed and he sat. He chucked to himself, embarrassed by sentimentalism yet pleasantly amazed the memories were intact.

The opening notes to Avé Maria stole his attention. There she was, the love of his life, standing alone in the choir loft. A chill ran up his spine when she opened her mouth and the first lyrics poured forth.

_Ave Maria. Gratia plena.Maria, gratia plena._

He appreciated the song and personal bias aside, her voice paid it justice. He let himself go, briefly immersed in a rare feeling of peace. She looked angelic and her rich alto filled his senses.

_Maria, gratia plena. Ave, ave dominus. Dominus tecum_

Someone touched his arm. "¿Precioso, si?" Electra whispered. He nodded, unwilling to break the spell.

Peace never lasts but he held onto it until their departure from Mass. Milling about waiting for Susan, again Travis' emotions pegged Logan's anxiety. Worse was no one else sensed it. The kid, first year cadet perfect behavior, conversed politely with every one. Testing the waters, Logan posed, "Bet you're glad for a break, huh Trav?" Bingo! The response was polite and abbreviated, but his emotions shot off the scale. Logan scowled.

Susan breezed in wishing all Merry Christmas and a safe drive home finished off with affectionate embraces. Hurrying to the cars, she addressed her men, "Ok guys, homeward. Y'all get one present to open before bed."

"No rules?" Matthew enthused.

"No sir, except just one present," she replied.

Travis said nothing but glanced nervously at Logan. He'd caught the scrutinizing scowl a few minutes before.

"Matt," Susan began, "why don't you ride with Trav."

"Ma, I'm not going to your house," Travis informed her.

She froze in her tracks and stared harshly, "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Back to Dads."

"Travis William, the plan is that you spend Christmas Eve, all of it, with me. You weaseled out of the party, now what gives?"

Bordering on rude, he answered, "Nothing gives."

Logan glowered and fought an urge to growl.

Travis exhaled forcefully, reining his temper, "Mom I'm eighteen. I don't hafta go by the custody agreements any more. I'll be over tomorrow morning."

Again, Logan smelled deceit. Travis' reasons weren't truthful.

"Travis," her voice wavered, "I don't mind telling you I'm very surprised and more than a little hurt."

"Aww Mom," he hugged her, "I don't mean to hurt you. It's just, I dunno, got some things I'm trying to work out. It's something Dad and I've been dealing with." She couldn't see his icy stare aimed at Logan.

Susan said nothing on the drive home but way she twiddled with a strand of hair and chewed her bottom lip gave clue to her feelings. Hurt slowly gave way to smoldering ire.

Tempted often to say something, Logan refrained. The timing was wrong.

The mood rubbed off on Matt. He didn't open a gift and after a snack bid them both a subdued goodnight. "Love ya guys," he shouted from the top of the stairs.

Not long after, Susan, in her robe, curled up on the couch with a mug of tea and stared at the Christmas tree.

Behind, massaging her shoulders Logan asked, "You ok?"

She reached for his hand and sighed, "I've had merrier Christmases"

"So much for Christmas card perfect, eh."

"Mmmm. I have no idea what's gotten into that boy. I wonder if West Point's really the best place for him?"

"Don't think that's the problem." He sat beside her, silently debating the best approach. "Sue, there were some heavy duty bad vibes coming off him and I get the feeling some of it's aimed at me."

Defensive, she spouted, "At you? Why? Are you sure?"

Here we go again, he thought, no turnin' back though. "Bad vibes I'm sure of. Ain't sure about the rest. Just a feeling, ya know?"

"I guess I'll add that to my list to talk over with him." She put her head on his shoulder. "I swear, one more problem and I'm going to explode."

Nuzzling her hair, he sensed weariness and frustration. He pled, "Gimme some warning before ya do, darlin'. I wanna be outta range."

"I'll try," she answered stifling a yawn.

"Uhhmmm, don't do that," he yawned sympathetically. "Sleepy?"

"No, I got a nap this afternoon. Just unwinding."

"Hmmm. Good idea," he said. Sensing she wasn't about to go off the emotional deep end for the moment, he relaxed deeper into the sofa cushions. "You're solo was something else, darlin'. I'm really glad I went."

"Thank you. I'm glad you did, too. Going to church wasn't as bad as you thought, huh?"

"It was ok but don't go gettin' any ideas."

"I won't but you know you're always welcome." Snuggling closer, she said, "Don't get too comfy, I still have a few more things tonight."

"What?" he murmured.

"Stuff the stockings."

"You're kidding? They're teenagers and you still do that?"

"Yes, I _still_ do that. Trust me, when the twins get to that age, you'll understand."

"Ok. Let's get to it then. I wanna share a little holiday cheer with you," he winked and touched her intimately, "before you get too tired."

Ave Maria by Franz Shubert


	32. Chapter 32

**Authors Note: Life's getting more complicated for Sue and Logan. I covered new territory (writing skill-wise) in this chapter and I'd be an ungrateful wretch by not recognizing three key persons. Thank you Jim, Rhia and Joe. **

**CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN**

Logan cracked an eye open. Seven thirty displayed in green on the bedside clock. Muted gray light streaming from behind the curtains told him it was probably snowing. Susan lay close, curled up, hogging the covers. Chilled, he teased his share back. She sighed and turned over, still sound asleep. He lay there relishing the peace. Snowbirds chirped in the bushes outside the windows. He heard the plop of snow dropping from tree branches. Something creaked but it caused no alarm. The tick-tock of the mantle and grandfather clocks fought for superiority. The heat cycling on whined like a distant jet engine. Yawning, he snuggled closer. Her scent, mingled with his from lovemaking, both stimulated and soothed. Captivated by it and her warmth, sleep reclaimed him.

He startled awake. "Hmmm. Huh?" he mumbled as she slid out of bed.

She replied, "Bathroom."

He stretched and popped his joints, "Right."

Susan returned wrapped in her robe. "Here" she said handing him flannel trousers and a t- shirt," you just might want to put this on."

"Why?" he mumbled from beneath the covers.

"Because in less than five minutes we are going to have a visitor."

He peeked from under the blanket. "What are you talking about?"

"Tradition. The boy's bring coffee and open their stockings."

"As in, in here?"

"Yes."

They heard the coffee maker gurgle, the oven door creak open and muffled chatter. "Dude, where you at?..." Matt balanced the cell phone in the crook of his neck while shoving a tray of croissants into the oven, "Uh, yeah, they're still crashed I think…Hey Trav, you still in a shit mood this morning?... Good, cuz I'm tellin' you Mom was a little stressed. Ya really screwed things up……. I think it's gonna take more than an I'm sorry, ya know? …..Ok, see ya in a few."

Back in the bedroom Logan yanked a t-shirt on and suggested, "Think it might be a good idea to…."

"…change the tradition," Susan finished, thinking the same thing. "At least for now. No doubt they'll be some new ones in the next few years." She rubbed her belly.

"Huh?" I didn't immediately get it. "Oh, right," he grinned.

Just as Logan and Susan emerged from the bedroom Travis walked through the front door.

"Hey, guys. Merry Christmas," she chimed happily.

"Aw man!" Matthew exclaimed. "Did we wake you?"

Travis interjected a rude "Duh!" aimed at his brother and poured himself coffee.

"Ok guys, don't start. Haven't had my coffee yet," Logan warned. He inhaled, testing Travis' emotional barometer; neutral at the moment.

Travis handed Susan a mug of coffee. "Thank you sweetheart, but could I trade it in for tea?" She passed hers off to Logan.

Absently, he took a swallow and grimaced, "Think there's enough sugar? Trav, pour me a cup of black."

Travis glared and ignored his request. Susan caught the nuance and shot him a warning glance.

Aimed at Travis, Matthew muttered, "Don't be a dork," and handed Logan a mug.

After a moment of awkward silence, she weighed in, "Travis, something's up. Let's deal with it right now before the morning's ruined."

Waving her off, "Everything's cool."

"Then why do I get the distinct feeling you don't want to be around?"

Travis' silence spoke volumes and so did the stress hormones only Logan could sense. "Guess I'm just still trying to, um—de-program from school or something."

Logan tensed and frowned at the kid's blatant lie. It took all he had not to shout bullshit.

"Well, hear this young man," Susan ordered, "De-program or whatever it is you need to do because I've had enough of the 'tude. Understand?"

He stiffened, his eyes darted conspicuously avoiding Logan. "Yes ma'am," he replied contritely.

"Thank you," she said, her tone reflected a smidgen of skepticism.

Only Logan sensed the depth of his insincerity. He cleared his throat masking an indignant rumble. Her subtle beseeching glance squelched further reaction.

"Now, how about those stockings, boys," Susan suggested with forced levity.

"Works for me," Matthew exclaimed shortcutting it to the mantle with a bound over the couch.

"Affirmative that," Travis replied, sounding pleasant for the first time.

"Sue, I gotta question," Logan said as the boys ripped into their stockings. Gesturing to the heap of gifts stacked around the tree, "How're we supposed to know what goes to who?"

She smiled surreptitiously, "You're not. Only—"

Matthew cut in, "Mom color codes the wrapping."

Logan raised an eyebrow, considering her ingenuity, "Smart woman, your mom. Kinda fu—screws up snooping, though."

"Snoops! Oh we couldn't have any of that going on," she teased, staring directly at Logan.

He looked guilty, "Nah, nobody does that."

"Travis," she said, "Would you do the honors?" The young man appeared pleased. "Red and white stripes are yours. Solid red's Matt's. Gold foil's for Logan and the rest are mine."

Travis made a flourishing show distributing all the gifts except for the packages in gold foil. Those he dumped unceremoniously if not rudely beside Logan. Glaringly apparent, too, was careful placement of his on the opposite side of the room.

A heavy package of Logan's clunked on the floor. "Travis, take it easy, please," Susan admonished.

"Sorry," he answered without a hint of regret. He picked up the final package, a large, brown wrapped carton, "Mom, who gets this?"

"What's the label say?"

"Just the Harris-Logan Tribe. Oh hey, it's post marked from New Zealand. Bet it's from Uncle George and Aunt Mitzi."

Susan gestured, "Bring it here." She struggled with the tape.

"Here, lemme," Logan offered, ejecting a small portion of a claw, easily splitting the adhesive.

Travis scowled then looked away. Neither Logan nor Susan caught it but he smelled the boy's repugnance.

"Studly dear, but let's use scissors," she scolded. "Remember, powers only when absolutely necessary."

He grunted and shrugged dismissively. "Who's Uncle George and Aunt Mitzi?"

Susan passed around the presents in the carton. "Oh, this is typical Mitzi and George; this wrapping paper is unbelievable." She held up one wrapped in garish lime green with a Santa dressed in red and white bathing shorts on a catamaran.

Logan muttered, "Who ever they are, got worse taste than me," then snickered.

"Oh look, they sent something for the twins," Susan gushed holding up two tiny packages. Meticulously she removed the wrapping. "Oh my gosh! Yep, this is sooo Mitzi and George." She displayed two infant sized Hawaiian shirts.

Shielding his eyes Logan demanded, "Geeze, turn 'em off," regarding smallest, gaudiest shirts he'd ever seen in his life.

"For real," Matt agreed.

"I don't know, hon," Susan countered Logan, "What about that paisley thing you've got in the closet. You know, the one that causes migraines at a hundred yards?"

"Yer funny, darlin'," he quipped and then groused, "Will somebody tell me who the hell they are?"

"George is--" Susan's voice hitched nearly imperceptibly. Oh my gosh, how's he going to take this? A look passed between them. "—my dad's brother."

He smelled her anxiety before the words registered. His stomach clenched. There's another fucking Stryker on the planet? He felt a surge of adrenalin and fought the urge to spring his claws. Mustering extreme control he raised an eyebrow and frowned. Quickly, as if the package addressed to him were coated with acid, he put it off to the side.

"Isn't it funny," Susan mused half-an-hour later.

"What's that, darlin'?" Logan queried earnestly while admiring a brand new Rolex, one of her gifts to him.

"I spend weeks shopping, hours wrapping and it's all over and done in minutes."

"Told ya wrapping's a waste of time."

"Hmmmph!" She glanced around and listened. Moments before the boys retreated to Matt's room to mess with their new BlackBerries. "Hey, great recovery a while ago."

He snorted, "I had no idea there were two Stryker's in this world. Got any more nukes to drop on me?"

For a moment she grappled with bringing up Wendy and other possibilities. "You hafta understand, George is nothing like my father was. They weren't even close." She paused and added, "I hear from them once or twice a year at most."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

"Umm, that might get complicated. It says in their letter they're going to be here this spring."

He looked stricken and gestured, "As in here?"

"Well, in the local area anyway."

"Ok, then remind me to be outta the local area."

"Logan, I think understand why you're freaking out over this but—"

"No you don't," he snarled.

"Let me finish," she snapped. "George and my dad are polar opposites. When dad was doing his gung-ho stuff in Viet Nam or where ever, George was protesting it. He's a hippy who never grew up."

Logan shrugged carelessly; her words did nothing to pacify his antagonism.

She sighed, "You know I won't force you into anything but I hope you'll understand that I'll want to visit with them."

"That's your call, Susan."

"If you gave him a chance you might actually like him."

He growled, "When hell freezes over," stepped outside to the patio and slammed the door.

Agitation controlled, he returned few minutes later and flopped down on the couch beside her. "Rough mornin', eh?"

"Mmmm hmmm." She stood and stretched, "And it's not over. I still hafta talk to Travis and find out what he's so bent out of shape about. Don't think I've missed the looks and the attitude."

"Susie, I know we agreed I'd stay outta stuff between you and the boys, but I'm here if you need me."

"That means so much, Bright Eyes. I just might this time." She paused, staring thoughtfully, then asked, "Last night didn't you say you thought part of whatever it is, is aimed at you?"

He nodded.

"Do you think it stems back to that altercation you two had last summer?"

"Good 'o guess as any."

"Logan, what really happened?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "I promised to keep that between him and me."

"Aaarrggh! You know what? I respect your sense of honor, but it's making my job as his mother kinda tough." Susan folded her arms expectantly.

Logan grunted and then relented, "How 'bout I talk to him first? If it ain't that, I'll back off."

"I think that's a good idea. I'm going to take a nice, long shower." She took the circuitous route to the bathroom. Stopping by the stairs she hollered, "Matthew, come down and clean up from breakfast, please. Trav, please haul out the trash." She waited long enough to hear their groans before winking at Logan. Now's your chance, she mouthed.

Logan waited to make sure Matt seemed busy before he followed Travis. Gathering up an armful of cardboard boxes he made his way to the work shed. "Don't have much of a baseline to go on," he said casually to Travis, "but seems like you did all right with your presents, huh?"

"Yeah," he answered expressionlessly.

"Want some help?"

"Got it covered." Travis mumbled, furiously stuffing paper into the receptacle. The stink of his anxiety permeated the shed.

"Wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

Travis paused, stiffened and said nothing.

"Look son," he began, reaching his hands out toward Travis.

Travis spun abruptly, "Don't call me that," he spat, "I'm not your son."

Logan retreated, hands raised in surrender, "Whoa! Ok, Travis then. You're pissed about something and I'd like to know how the hell I factor in." The smell of hate sent Logan's adrenalin coursing

The smell of a lie spiked, "Don't know what you're talking about."

Fed up with the boys' deception, he growled, "You're full of it, kid. I'm not stupid and by the way, I can smell your anger and lies."

"You calling me a liar?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck you, Logan."

Frustrated, he slapped his palm on the trash can lid, "Dammit Travis! Don't ya get it? I'm on your side. If I've fucked up I need to know."

He laughed sarcastically, "Oh man, yeah…fucked up. You got that right. You come in here and completely ruin everything."

"What the fuck're you talking about?"

"And you_ are_ too stupid to get it."

Almost seizing him by the collar, "That's enough 'o that boy." Inches from his face, hot breaths mingling, he rumbled "I could ram yer teeth down yer throat, ya know that? Only thing stoppin' me is your mom."

He shoved Logan in the chest, "Come on, do it." He shoved again, "Then she can find out what a worthless shit you really are."

A deep rumble welled from his chest. Bend me over and shove it sideways, he thought, the lil' poser scored with that'un. Eyes narrowed, lips curled in a sneer, Logan stepped back struggling not to make good on his threat.

Provocatively, Travis raised his fists, shifting nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. The kid's form, straight out of military self-defense classes almost made Logan laugh. What's the kid doin', he thought? Looks like Ali's fairy little brother. Go ahead, dance around the shed all ya want kid but I can guaran-damn-tee this ain't no fuckin' thrilla from Manilla.

Travis threw a punch. Expecting it, Logan adroitly dodged. "You don't wanna go here cuz you're gonna hurt yourself bad." Ain't gonna give ya no bee sting, he thought, it'll be a fuckin' pile driver.

He reared back, "It'll be worth it if mom dumps you over it," and launched another blow at Logan's face.

Quick as lightning, Logan ducked it. He continued the motion, wrenching Travis' arm down almost behind his back. Travis gasped and he let go. Stepping back, "Dammit Travis, I thought we settled this months ago." Spreading his arms wide, he offered, "All right kid, ya need to get it outta your system. Take yer best shot."

Travis hesitated, amazed by the proposition. Briefly, Logan smelled confusion but it quickly faded replaced by another surge of anger. Wound up tighter than a spring, Travis drew his arm back and rammed Logan in the gut. Ready for a hit anywhere, the force behind it surprised him. It took effort not to grunt and his face registered surprise.

Travis caught the surprise on Logan's face before he hid it. He grinned maniacally. Logan smelled Travis' adrenalin spike as he quickly drew his arm back and fired a powerful strike to Logan's jaw.

Just then, Susan walked in with another load of trash. She saw the blur of Travis punch and shrieked, "Travis stop!"

Too late: the thud of flesh hitting flesh turned into a crack that echoed through out the shed as Travis' bones crunched with Logan's metal.

Instantly Travis' rage gave way to pain. He yelped. Tears pooled in his eyes. Fear joined the heady mix of emotions. Travis hopped around, cradling his throbbing hand. "Fuck, what you do to me" he yelled.

Logan rubbed his jaw. The blow stung. "Ya forgot, didn't ya kid. Got metal in—"

"What in God's name is going on," Susan demanded placing herself between them.

"Oh shit! Mom!"

She glared, "Logan?"

Her wrath scorched his senses like acid. He raised his hand, palm open, "I didn't touch him Sue. You asked me to talk to him."

"So I did, with an emphasis on talk." She glared at Logan then at Travis, "Humph! Well, lemme tell you both something; nothing, and I mean nothing, is ever going to be settled in this manner in my house."

"Mom, I'm sorry. I –"

Her glower silenced him. "Inside, now! We'll get to full explanations after I look at your hand." She yanked Travis' arm and motioned Logan to follow.

In the kitchen, she demanded, "Unclench you hand. Flex your fingers"

"Unnnggh, aaahhhh! It hurts," he cried.

"I don't think anything's broken. You're very lucky young man." She opened the freezer compartment. "Here, ice it down for a while" she ordered gently wrapping his hand in a bag of frozen peas. Concern over- washed the scent of rage and she asked Logan, "Are you ok?"

He nodded.

All business, she commanded, "All right, both of you, sit. Travis William, explain to me why you hit my husband."

"I'm sorry. I don't know why."

Logan sensed the boy's obfuscation. Tolerant no longer, he demanded, "Tell her what you told me."

"Travis?"

"I said he ruined your life."

"What? Son! Why do you think that?"

"Because he's a mutant." A dam broke and his version of the story spilled forth. "Mom, you hafta understand. Being with him, his kind, it's gonna take you down. I mean, six of my classmates got kicked out because they tested positive for whatever it is that says you're a mutant. There's talk that if you've got one in your family you could get the boot. I heard they could even put you in jail for being married to 'em."

Neither Susan nor Logan could hide their shock but at least now understood the reason for the boy's potent mix of feelings.

"Travis, why didn't you talk to us?" she asked.

"Like you'd hear me? You two are all wrapped up, lovey-dovey with the twins coming and all."

"I still don't understand why you hit him."

"I don't know either."

"That's a lie," Logan interjected.

Susan's glanced questioningly between them. Travis' face hardened into a frown.

Logan glared at Travis. He sucked in his breath for calm and enunciated carefully, "You said you wanted your mother to find out what I was really like."

"Yeah," Travis challenged, "and you said get it outta my system; told me to take my best shot."

Susan buried her face in her hands and muttered, "Oh Lord! Both of you." Almost in tears she asked, "Logan you didn't?"

Remorselessly he admitted, "Yeah, I did."

"Travis," she muttered, "you really said that?"

Travis looked away and nodded.

She shook her head and sighed. "I don't even know where to begin." She stood, paced to the window and stared out. She finally said, "Son, I'm going to ask some hard questions and I want you to think before you answer."

"Ok."

"Do you feel like you have to compete with Logan for my attention?"

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Ok, I can accept that. Here's the next question. If Logan wasn't mutant, would you still feel the same?"

The young man fidgeted. His eyes darted nervously. He licked his lips, sighed, picked at a thread on the sofa cushion. Finally with tears in his eyes, choked, "I don't know."

Matthew sauntered in, brand new i-pod glued to him like an extra appendage. He surveyed the scene. "Guess it's not a good time to ask for a ride somewhere?"

"Good guess, Matt," Logan replied more harshly than deserved.

"Hang on bro'," Travis sensed an escape and stood. "I'll drop you."

Susan cut him off sharply, "Wrong! Sit down." Then politely addressing her younger son, "Matt, it'd be really helpful if you could find something constructive to do in your room for a while."

He shook his head in frustration, "Thanks a bunch Trav. Ya just had too, didn't ya?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"That will do!" Susan shouted. "Matthew Allen, that's not helpful. Travis William, you're not too big for pepper sauce on your tongue and if you think you are just try me."

Envisioning the threat Susan just posed, Logan stifled a snicker but not a lopsided grin. It faded quickly in response to her frosty glare.

Matthew edged away, "I think I hear my computer IM tone."

Thoroughly vexed by it all, Susan continued, "Travis, what's gotten into you? First it's your attitude yesterday then it's with Logan and now your brother?

"I don't know," Travis shouted. "I can't figure out what's right or wrong, who's the good guy and who's not. You tell me one thing, dad's telling me another. Even my little brother's sold out to him." He pointed at Logan.

"I don't mind sayin' I'm a little confused here," Logan said.

"Me too," Susan agreed. "Travis you've said a couple things and I can't find the common thread."

"Aaahhhgg!" Travis snapped his head back into the sofa, utterly frustrated. "All right, it is because he's mutant." Suddenly he couldn't hold back tears. "I'm sorry Mom. I just don't know what to do. I wanna like him, I really do but— aw shit, I don't even know what I'm saying."

Quietly, Logan suggested, "Think it's time things cooled off." He didn't wait for a reply but didn't go far; only to the bedroom to dress.

Susan moved to the space beside him, "It's ok, Travis," she soothed. "Let's try to break things down." Giving him a few minutes to compose himself and figure which track to tackle she posed, "Tell me why, seemingly all of a sudden, Logan being mutant is a problem for you."

"Because if you believe half of what you read or hear they're dangerous, nuts or both. I mean look at the kids at Xavier's school. They can do weird stuff that can kill ya. Logan's got metal in him and claws, what's up with that? There's this nut case named Doctor Eric Lensherr…"

Logan snapped to attention hearing Magnetos name. Cinching his belt, he decided the time was right to rejoin the conversation.

Travis continued, "…we're studying about. This guy, no kidding, wants mutants to take over and he's tried."

"Not to diminish Magneto," Logan interrupted, "he's as dangerous as they come; but Travis, mutants don't have a corner on terrorism and global domination strategies."

"Magneto?"

"Yeah, Eric Lensherr likes to call himself that. Point is, Bin Laden's right up there and he ain't mutant, far as I know. Think about Hitler and the holocaust. Evil and cruelty's everywhere" His tone turned bitter, "I'm up close in personal with a lotta that shit. The metal in my bones ain't no mutation and the man who put it there wasn't mutant."

Susan's eyes widened and she grimaced. Please don't go into this, she thought, hoping Logan would read the look on her face.

"Somebody put the metal there? How come?"

"Been askin' myself that for years, kid. The simple answer's cuz they could."

"Who did it?"

"Don't matter any more. He's dead."

Steering the subject away, Susan added, "Travis, you can't paint an entire people from a few bad examples. Your father and I didn't raise you like that."

"I know; it's stupid and ignorant. But look at what's been going on with the Mutant Registration Act going into effect. Who's the dude that's hunger striking over it? Then there's been protests and riots. Didn't some embassy or something get bombed? And look at what's happened to some of the kids at Professor Xavier's school. If I went through some of that, I'd want to kick butt over it."

"Some of 'em have," Logan admitted.

"It's scary, ya know?"

"It's very scary. And to me, it makes me more determined to stand by my beliefs and live my life with even more tolerance. I can only liken what's happening to the civil rights upheaval in the nineteen fifties and sixties and I was too young to really remember." She turned to Logan, "Do you remember?"

Logan shook his head, "In school for most of it. Only Altamont."

"What's Altamont?"

"Woodstock, gone clusterfuck."

"Huh?"

"A rock concert turned into a riot and massacre."

"Why?"

"Because Hells' Angels' was the security force."

"You're shittin' me."

"Travis, language please."

"Logan gets away with it."

"He's an adult."

Travis shrugged, "Yes ma'am. So Logan, why were you there?"

Logan pressed his hands together and brought them in front of his face. How do I get outta answerin' this one, he thought? "I was ridin' with 'em," he admitted quietly.

Susan and Travis both exclaimed in unison, "You we're a Hells' Angel?"

"Yeah. Shout it from the roof top, why don't ya? I ain't proud of the fact. Everybody's stupid at nineteen, ya know."

Travis shot Logan a blistering scowl.

"No offense Travis. We're getting off the point. The whole mutant thing is complicated. Ugly stuff has happened and is gonna continue, probably for the rest of our lives. But, if it wasn't that it'd be something else. The fight for dominance is timeless. Natural law's survival of the fittest. And there's nothing wrong with that."

Susan looked shocked, unsure of what he meant, "What are you saying?"

"God knows, I'm no pacifist…."

Susan didn't stifle a chuckle.

"Ya gotta do whatever it takes to defend what's right."

"Some people say it's gonna come down to a war," Travis said. "Do you guys think it will?"

"No," Susan answered firmly.

"Maybe," Logan replied.

Travis looked Logan hard in the eye, "Would you fight if it did?"

Regarding him at length, he replied, "If I hafta."

Equally somber, Travis asked, "What side?"

Without hesitation, he responded, "My side."

Travis scowled, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said," Logan snapped, "Me, myself and I."

"That's what I figured." Travis' voice dripped with disgust. "When the shit hits, the rest of us can go fuck ourselves."

Indignantly he declared, "Wrong boy!" He drew a calming breath and continued, his tone resolute, "Ain't puttin' on anybody's uniform. Been there, done that, designed the fuckin' t-shirt but I'll take out anybody who fucks with my family."

Satisfied with Logan's reply he turned attention to Susan, "Mom, you asked me a tough question, will you answer one for me?"

"I'll try. What?"

"Are the twins—I mean can you tell—are they gonna be mutants?"

"Yes, they are."

Travis fell silent and frowned. Resembling Susan, he gnawed his lower lip. Finally he stood. "You know what scares me the most?" His blue eyes met Logan's brown eyes, "The fact that someday I could be on the opposing side of one of my own family."

He trudged to the closet and put on his coat. Dolefully he said, "Gotta go. Promised Sarah and Sophie I'd do some stuff with 'em this afternoon." He walked out.


	33. Chapter 33

**Authors Note: Domestic bliss is ever-elusive. Logan's learning step-parenting isn't easy. Susan's mid- pregnancy hormonal. Everything's just 'peachy' in the Harris-Logan household- NOT! And the fun's just begun. Praise, comments, criticisms, gripes; it's all welcome.**

**Disclaimer: The usual. Not earning a penny, not even trying too. God bless Marvel.**

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

Logan and Susan sat in stunned silence. Perplexing and disquieting thoughts raced through her mind. She fidgeted with a lock of hair and exhaled loudly before turning to him, "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Not sure but it ain't over; not by a long shot."

"No it's not," she answered sharply. "Now you tell me what happened out there."

"Hell, what ya saw is what ya get, darlin'."

"Not the answer I'm looking for Logan."

"What the hell ya want me to say? The kid needed to vent and I let him."

"You were supposed to talk to him."

"Well, as ya saw he wasn't talkin'."

"But did you have to bait him like that?" She quoted him, "Take your best shot! You told him to do that?"

"Look Susan, sometimes when ya got two men in the same house they gotta figure out who's on top. Mutant issues aside, the kid's at that age."

"I don't buy that for a second."

"Babe, you need to think about it. It's one o'those natural laws. Can't have two dominant males."

"More like mules," she quipped before becoming starkly serious, "You're making it out like you're nothing but a pair of wolves or something."

His head bobbed affirmatively.

Sparks flew from her eyes, "You've got the feral instinct not Travis and won't lower my expectations. I give you a lot of leeway considering your upbringing and background but I'm warning you, something like this better never, ever happen again.

He glared at her, offended, "What about my upbringing and background?"

"You didn't exactly have an idyllic childhood and let's face it; you're feral tendencies get the better of you sometimes."

Logan gripped the back of the sofa and sucked in his breath. Contemptuously, he spat, "This coming from the daughter of a fuckin' maniac? Tortured his own son, for chrissake!"

She shrunk back as if slapped and hissed, "Keep your voice down. Matthew might hear."

Eyes blazing, jaw muscle twitching, he suggested venomously, "Maybe this goddamned secret needs to come out."

"To what end Logan?"

He shook his head and lowered his gaze, "Good question. Let's drop it. Don't wanna hurt the boys."

"Thank you." Tears pooled in her eyes, "Logan, I'm sorry."

Disarmed, he replied, "Me too."

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"Dunno darlin'. "Considering everything, seems like I might be the last person to ask."

"No, no! I put too much on you. If anything it's my fault. He's my kid and I should have broached the issues."

He ruffled her hair with his fingertips, "Maybe so. Gotta admit, you're right about my upbringing. Ain't got any good examples to work from." He sighed, "I guess we just take it as it comes."

"Bright Eyes, can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot, darlin'."

"If a war does come what does what ever it takes mean?"

He thought for a long moment and answered firmly, "It means ya gotta trust me."

The telephone rang. Logan heaved himself off he couch. "What?" he growled into the handset. A frown gave way to an awkward grimace and he mouthed oh shit to Susan.

Ruefully, he spoke in French, "Elizabeth! Pardon. Oui, eh, au juste. Joyeux Noël," the words stuck in his throat. Susan chuckled and listened intently trying to understand the thread of conversation. Before long, Logan said, "Yeah, she right here," and gave the handset over. Eavesdropping, as well, he leaned against the counter separating the kitchen from the family room. No sooner had she concluded with Elizabeth, the phone rang again; this time Aunt Colleen. Susan's enthusiasm was infectious and he fidgeted waiting his turn to greet the second woman in the world he had genuine respect and love for.

Logan and Matthew departed outdoors shoveling snow from the driveway when the phone rang a third time. Not bothering to check caller I.D., Susan answered, "Hello."

A man's voice, stern, icy with contempt enunciated, "Explain what happened to our sons hand."

"Well, pleasant day to you too, Allen," Susan answered curtly. "What did he tell you?"

"That he got into a fight with that- that reject from juvie you seem so attached to."

"That reject, as you call him, is my husband and you better not forget it," she sliced him off angrily.

He sucked his breath, "Very well, husband." Lecturing, he pressed on, "Have you seen his hand? I'm concerned he's broken something. What in gods name did your so called husband do?"

"Logan didn't do anything. It was Travis who punched him."

"Hmmmm. Well that's what Travis said but I find that quite unbelievable."

"Honestly, if I hadn't seen it myself I'd have thought the same," she admitted, "but he's been completely weird for the past twenty four hours. You can't tell me he's been fine for you."

"He was until he came back just now. Susan, I've bent over backwards with this so called husband of yours but he continues to be an unsavory influence on our sons."

"Oh? I don't see it that way. Perhaps you better explain."

"Have you taken leave of your common sense Susan? Just look at him and look at you. You're a respectable physician; you've made a very comfortable life for yourself."

No thanks to you, she thought. "Allen, make your point."

"Do you know what Travis told me? He said what's his name used to be a Hells Angel. I think my point's quite obvious."

"His name is Logan."

"That's another thing, why does he not use his full name?"

"That's no bearing on anything."

"It all points to some very unsettling possibilities."

"You know what? I think you can't stand it that I've finally found love and happiness."

"I'm all for love and happiness my dear but under the appropriate circumstances."

"Who are you to tell me about appropriate? Let's not go there Allen."

"No Susan, let's go there. Look at him; he's practically a boy himself…."

"Wrong…" she cut in.

"He admits to being a Hells Angel; that spells criminal background to me. Those reasons aside, what prospects does he have, a gym teacher at a private—a private mutant school?"

"Oh, here we go. You're the one fomenting Travis' sudden anti- mutant sentiments, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. I've got no problems with that. I do have a problem with my sons being exposed to anyone of his type."

"His type? What the hell does that mean?"

"Susan, mutant or not, the man's just a step above trailer trash and…"

"Oh you sanctimonious turd!" she shouted into the phone.

"…and when his true nature is revealed I don't want my sons any where near."

"His true nature? I can tell you this; he's not a snake in the grass like you're being right now. And quite frankly Allen, you don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Don't I? Let me give you a clue. I'm going to be monitoring things very carefully from here on. If I get the slightest inkling that Matthew or Travis are being adversely affected by your husband you can kiss our current custody arrangement goodbye."

"On what grounds, Allen?"

"On whatever I need—and yes, I would flaunt the MRA. Logan is one of them, isn't he?"

"Oh, you two-faced bastard. Why are you doing this?"

"No need to resort to name calling. I'm doing this because it's quite clear you've lost all sense of reason and responsibility and when the MRA does go into full mode I'll not risk our sons becoming a casualty to it. Now, Travis has asked me to inform you that he'll not be going to Canada with you"

"Sadly, that doesn't surprise me," she replied bitterly. "I'm sure you let him make the decision purely on his own."

"Of course. I'd like to request that Matthew---"

"Forget it Allen. I've got Matt for this holiday. You wanna renegotiate I'll see you in Sandra's office when we get back."

"Thought you'd say that. The other thing is, in light of these tensions, Christine and I feel that it might be wise if you didn't bring Logan with you this evening."

Susan's face turned beet red. She sucked in her breath. "You know what Allen? You can take your fucking invite or dis-invite and shove it up your ass so far it comes out your nose." She hurled the phone across the room, shattering it to bits on the ceramic tiled kitchen floor.

Moments later the phone rang. After the third ring the answering machine picked up and she heard, "I'll send Travis for Matthew at four thirty. Our agreement is that he celebrates with us tonight. I'm certain you'll come up with an appropriate explanation concerning your absence." Beeeeeeeeeep, click; the voice ceased.

"Go to hell!" she shrieked.

Dual snow shovels scraped the driveway. Though they toiled in silence, Logan could smell the cloud of confusion, sadness and frustration enveloping Matthew. Finally he offered, "Hey, I was a little rough on ya earlier. Sorry."

Matt glanced at him with a half smile and a nod, accepting the apology.

"Listen Matt, if ya ever need, you know, to talk or anything…."

Seizing the offer he asked, "Did Travis really hit you? What for?" Not waiting for a reply, he lamented, "What a dork."

Logan suppressed a chuckle.

"Don't feel too bad, he gave Christine a lotta grief in the beginning too. I remember he was like really mean to her. Guess he got over it though." They shoveled in silence once more then Matt declared, "I don't think you're gonna ruin mom's life."

Logan shot the boy a questioning glance. "Just how much did you overhear?"

"Pretty much all of it. I sat at the top of the stairs."

This time Logan didn't suppress a laugh.

"I don't know where he gets off coming down on mutants now," Matt complained.

"Fear makes people think and do weird stuff," Logan replied.

"I guess." After a few minutes, he asked, "Logan, Do you think it could happen?"

What?"

"A war?"

Logan leaned on the shovel handle and regarded the boy. Choosing his words with care he replied, "It's a screwed up world. Anything can happen. It's almost certain were gonna see a lot more stupid shit from both sides but I wouldn't freak out or anything."

Matthew digested Logan's words for a long moment and then asked, "Do you really think mom could go to prison for being married to you?"

"Over my dead body."

Matthew looked startled.

"Matt, you're mom and me ain't the only mixed couple on the planet; I guarantee it. Guess there's gonna be some poor suckers who'll be made examples of but I don't think you're mom and I are that high on the radar to get stuck with the distinction."

"Hey Logan, can I ask ya something personal?"

"Shoot."

"The metal in you, is that your mutation?"

"No."

"Then what is?"

Logan sighed, "Let's go 'round back and talk." He led the boy to the woodpile. Ejecting his claws he split a log and then retracted them. As the gaps in his knuckles instantly healed he explained, "One of my mutations lets me do this."

"Wow! You got more than one?"

He nodded somberly, "Got better than normal senses and reflexes."

"Piotr and I were messin' around one day and he showed me how he can go all metal on the outside. If metal isn't yours, how'd it get there?"

Logan leaned against the woodpile, his brow knit in a pensive frown. Shit! Knew this was coming, he thought. Ok, don't put nothin' between the lines, stupid. Just answer the question. "Surgery," he replied and braced for the inevitable follow up.

It didn't happen. Logan caught the scent moments before they heard crunches in the snow and shouts. A boys' changeable voice called, "Hey. Matthew, ya back there?"

"Come on dude, the street's like packed down; sledding's awesome," shouted another voice, feminine this time.

"Be right there," Matthew called back. "Can we talk later?" he asked Logan.

Expression neutral, Logan answered, "Anytime." As soon as Matt was out of earshot he shook his head and muttered, "Just cashed in yer get outta jail free card." He sprung his claws and commenced splitting more logs. Risky in broad daylight but at the moment he didn't give a shit. His own need to vent fast approached the red line.

A few minutes later he heard Susan's voice call from the front of the house. "In back," he called. She got within four feet of him and he could smell bitter anger rolling off her. Here we go again, he thought and retracted his claws, she's gonna chew my ass for using the claws.

"Our plans for the evening have been cancelled," she spat bitterly.

His brow shot up in surprise, "What gives?"

"Allen called."

"Travis."

She nodded. Recounting the conversation her voice rose in volume until Logan took her gently by elbow, "Come on darlin', let's go inside."

"He said you were an unsavory influence on the boys and practically said I'm an unfit mother!"

Logan's jaw twitched angrily, "Nobody calls you unfit and gets away with it. I'll take care o' that slimy bastard"

"Then he told me Travis isn't coming with us to Canada and wanted me to leave Matt behind."

"What'd ya tell him?"

"I told him no way."

"Good."

"And he basically said you weren't welcome." She raised her chin defiantly, "So I told him to take his invite and shove it up his ass."

"Good job, darlin'."

A glazed look of despair spread across her face. "Logan, he threatened to change our custody agreement." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Com 'ere," he drew her into his arms. "Ain't gonna happen. I won't let it." Holding her tightly as she sobbed, murmured, "Shhhh. It's ok. He's just jerkin' your chain."

"I hope so," she gulped. "He—he threatened to use the new laws against us."

Figures, he thought. Told Matt we probably wouldn't have any problems with the MRA. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure it out if we hafta." He pushed a tendril of hair from her eyes and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, "I'm sorry baby."

"What are you sorry for?"

He lifted her chin, "Don't like seeing ya unhappy."

An appreciative smiled flickered on her face then quickly faded when she gazed into his dark, vicious expression. "Logan, I know that look."

He maintained his gaze, "Yep."

"Please, please, please, don't even think about it—whatever it is."

"Nobody's gonna mess with you. Lippincott, Allen; nobody's gonna make you cry and get away with it."

A wave of apprehension swept through her, "Logan I want you to promise me you won't do anything."

He glanced away. He didn't want to make that promise.

"Logan, look at me."

His jaws clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Promise."

He shrugged dismissively.

"You know what's at stake here. You must promise."

Grudgingly he growled, "Yeah. All right. I promise."

She slumped against his chest, "Thank you."

"Won't do anything but Susan, I swear, if I cross paths with him he's gonna hear about it."

Her lips curled into an evil grin, "Get in line Bright Eyes, get in line."

Logan got his chance that afternoon. While Susan napped the phone rang. "Why the fuck don't they put the damn thing back on the charger?" he muttered aloud. He noticed A. Harris on the caller ID and pressed intercom. His voice hardened, "Whadaya want?"

Allen's tone, coolly disapproving, answered, "It would be more convenient if Susan brought Matthew over this evening. Kindly pass on the message."

His nostrils flared, his lips thinned with fury. "You upset my wife, bub. Do it again and you're gonna wish you were never born."

"Is that a threat?"

"No it's a guarantee. Now lemme tell you something; you want Matt bad enough you get your cowardly ass over here and get 'im yourself."

"I see. Have him ready in half an hour."

"If he wants to he'll be ready."

"Allow me to be perfectly clear Logan, you don't want to interfere with my sons and Susan."

"Not my plan, bub but you don't wanna interfere with me and Susan."

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing. Susan's quite capable of ruining her own life. I'm just making certain she doesn't drag my son's down with her."

"Fuck off and die, asshole," Logan growled and crushed the phone base with an adamantium fist.

Susan's gasp caused him to spin around. "Oh well," she shrugged, "now we need a base and a handset."

"Shit! Darlin' I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I smashed the handset talking to him earlier."

"Ya heard everything?"

"No. Enough though. All things considered you were appropriately restrained."

He smiled sheepishly, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied wrapping her arms around his waist. "But I've got a suggestion."

"What's that?"

"When he comes by to get Matt maybe you need to be otherwise occupied?"

"Aww hell! Miss all the fun?"

"Absolutely Bright Eyes, you've already got one potential lawsuit out there."

He growled, "What ever happened to settlin' things man to man. Fuckin' pussie suck up to lawyers."

Her face turned scarlet. "You're eloquence is unsurpassed, my love."

"Ya think?"

She shook her head and grinned.

"I'm goin' outside for a smoke."

"You've earned it. I'm going to start dinner."

Once outside he heard crashes, scrapes, screeches a loud bang and finally a string of curses from his next door neighbors' garage. Intensely curious, Logan hopped the fence with cougar like stealth. He crept silently along the side yard and stood just out of sight. Nostrils flaring, he sniffed. Surprisingly, he smelled frustration. He thought, poor stiff, must not be gettin' any and stifled a smug snicker. "What the fuck you doin'?"

Victor Creed with his back toward Logan startled and spun, copping an offensive posture. "Do dat again and yer gonna look like last weeks road kill."

Arms spread expansively, Logan challenged, "Yer welcome ta try."

Creed grinned maniacally, "Whadaya want Runt?"

"Nothin'. Just seein' where the hell all the racket was coming from."

"Well now ya see. Ya gonna stan'ere and stink up my garage wi'zat cigar?"

With a derisive grin Logan answered by exhaling a cloud of blue smoke.

"Yeah, well fuck you," Creed groused.

"I'll pass. Gettin' all I need."

Creed didn't immediately catch the nuance. He growled, "Faggot," as he did.

"Your mother's another," Logan returned.

A door between the house and garage creaked open. The statuesque, exotic beauty greeted, "Oh. Hi Logan. Thought I heard another voice."

As tall as he with raven hair down to her waist and a glowing olive complexion, Logan couldn't help but admire Linda Creed. Pregnancy aside, she was a first rate looker with two ample attributes he deeply appreciated. If he were unattached she'd be on his To Do list. "Nice to see ya," he replied courteously.

"Victor," she said pulling a package from the freezer, "will ya light off the grill for me."

Creed grunted affirmatively.

"Thank you Tiger."

Certain she was out of earshot Logan snickered, "Hah!" and mimicked, "Thank you, Tiger." Before Creed responded, he asked in seriousness, "Any news from our friends lately?"

"Nope."

"S'pose that's good."

"Yeah, fer now anyway. Hey, got allen wrenches?"

"Yeah but it's gonna cost ya."

Creed grunted and pointed at the fridge, "Beer."

"Yer smarter than ya look," Logan quipped before sprinting to his truck. "What size?" he yelled rummaging through the galvanized toolbox in the truck bed..

"Hell if I know. Bring 'em all. And bring some o' dose Cubans."

"Askin' a lot ain't ya, bub?" he replied sauntering back. "Here," he tossed one along with a lighter. He watched the huge man struggled with a large section of what appeared to be glass shelving. "What is it yer trying to do?"

"Linda wants 'is thing fer da kitchen. Comes in a kit. Pain inna ass to put together."

The sound of a car pulling into Logan's drive stole his attention. He growled.

Creed smelled his rancor. "Problem?"

"Sue's ex coming for the kid."

"Can tell ya get along real good."

Logan gestured dismissively and chugged his beer. Matthew departed without further incident so he turned attention back to Creed, "Hey genius, how ya gonna get that thing through the door?"

Creed glared at him, looked back and forth between the cabinet and the door. "Awww fuck," he growled and with a mighty fist smashed it to bits.

Logan shook his head and laughed, "Sucks to be ya. See ya." Strolling away he heard a string of curses and growls followed by Linda Creeds sharp reprimand.

"What are you looking so smug about?" Susan asked as he walked through the door.

"He may have mellowed a little but he's still dumber than a box of rocks." Logan answered shaking his head.

"Who?"

"Creed."

She laughed. "Logan are you being bad?"

"Never."

She eyed him skeptically. "Set the table."

"What smells good?"

"Certainly not that cigar residue. Actually, don't set the table. Go take a shower. You're making me nauseous."

He sniffed his sleeve, "Whatever," and made his way to the shower.

"Better now?" he asked fifteen minutes later.

"Much," she replied lifting her face for a kiss. "Thanks."

"Not a prob, darlin'." Going to the wine fridge, he asked, "That lasagna ya made?"

She set the bubbling casserole on the table. "It is."

"Chianti then?"

"Do we have any?"

He drew a bottle from the top rack, "Looks like it to me."

"Terrific." She lit two candles, "Just a little."

He poured two glasses and took his seat beside her, "Here's to you beautiful lady." He tapped his goblet lightly against hers. "Wish the day had gone better."

"You know what Bright Eyes? I don't even want to think about that right now. Let's just enjoy the moment."

His remorseful expression relaxed into a smile. They ate silently, the only sounds being the clocks ticking, the crackle of the fire log and silverware clinking on china.

"Darlin'?" he queried softly.

She inclined her head attentively.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

His dark, probing eyes sought hers.

"You look so serious Bright Eyes." Her eyes darted nervously. "Please don't lay anything more on me tonight. It's been quite enough lately."

"Yeah, it has. That's why I want to ask this."

She sighed, "Oh all right. What is it?"

His voice hitched with powerful emotion, "With all the shit that's gone down in the last couple o' weeks," he hesitated then leaned forward, lowering his voice, "if you had to do it over……would you still marry me?"

Caught off guard her eyes widened, "What a silly question." She glanced down at her wedding band her expression clouding with confusion and insecurity.

Her dismissive response grated on him and his lips thinned in irritation and hurt.

She saw it in his eyes and took his hand in hers, "Logan, you're really serious aren't you?"

He inclined his head deeply and replied, "Completely."

She leaned closer, a soft loving curve formed on her lips, "Yes James Andrew Logan, I would."

He returned her smile and studied her intently. Drawing her hand to his lips, he kissed it and murmured, "Do you know how much I love you."

Her voice quivered, "I think so. Show me."

Without another word, he blew out the candles, gathered her into his arms and smothered her lips with a long, slow, delicious kiss. Hand in hand they retreated to the soft confines of their bed. Gently, he eased her down and showered kisses on her face, neck and shoulders before returning to explore the recesses of her mouth with his tongue. His ardor, surprisingly, touchingly, restrained left her feeling cherished and peaceful.

Later, their bodies' entwined, still moist from lovemaking, she murmured, "Can I ask you the same question?"

"Huh?" he replied drowsily.

"If I wasn't pregnant would you still want to marry me?"

He kissed the tip of her nose, "I did and I do Susan."

"Hoped so. You know I think we're both probably a little crazy."

"Certifiable's more like it."

She giggled, "I'll stay crazy if you will."

He hooked his little finger around hers, "Deal."

"Deal," she squeezed it back.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: The ususal. Don't own them. Not making a dime.**

**Warning: The language is a little stronger than usual for me.**

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

"They're going to cut you off," Susan whispered as he swallowed half of his third scotch.

Logan scowled, shook his head and stared out of the window into the bright, cloudless sky.

She gently touched his arm, "Penny for your thoughts, Bright Eyes?"

He fidgeted and grunted, shifting his weight in the soft leather seat of Air Canada's first class section. A penny wouldn't come close. He was in a shitty mood; woke up that way and there wasn't a thing to do but ride it out.

He tried focusing his thoughts on the surprise he'd arranged for Susan but Elizabeth's assurance that everything had been arranged left him uneasy. What the fuck did everything arranged mean?

Yesterday's scene with Travis weighed heavy. The kid wasn't being straightforward with anyone, including himself. The stakes were high across the board and the whole thing could go clusterfuck with minor provocation.

"Steak and eggs or oatmeal and blueberries, sir," a flight attendant's voice broke through.

"Do I look like an oatmeal kind 'o guy?" he snapped.

The attendant wasn't a kid and knew exactly how to finesse any type of passenger. She paused briefly regarding Logan's countenance. Her retort, "Perhaps a toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce would be more to your liking?" oozed graciousness.

Susan chuckled.

Trumped, he grumbled, "Steak."

"I'll have the same," Susan chimed in and when the attendant retreated to the galley she elbowed him and murmured, "Will you kindly quit acting like you're sitting on a cactus?"

The slightest grin flickered in his expression. He stood and made a minor spectacle checking the seat, "I don't see any. Do you?"

"Dork! Sit down and make nice."

He stared down at her and flippantly asked, "What're ya gonna do if I don't, darlin'? Ground me?"

She winked, "Haven't decided." She lovingly caressed his hand, "Come on, relax."

Matthew, sitting across the aisle piped up, "Mom's wicked when it comes to being grounded."

Projecting a mind-your-own-business glower, he muttered and made his way down the short aisle to the lavatory.

Matthew leaned across to his mother, "What's up with him?"

She shrugged, "I've got a few ideas but this is neither the time nor the place." Purposefully changing the subject she inquired, "Psyched for some serious 'boarding, dude?"

He grinned, "Oh yeah. It's like between snowboarding and surfing this vacation's gonna rock. Travis is stupid for not coming."

"Oh that reminds me, how was supper at your Dad's last night?"

"Ok. Bobeshi and Gramps were there."

Who's Bobeshi and Gramps?" Logan inquired, squeezing past Susan's ever expanding pregnancy into his seat.

"Dad's parents."

"Bobeshi, Yiddish for grandmother, ain't it?"

"It is," Susan replied. "How'd you know that?"

Logan shrugged answering, "Fregt mikh bekheyrem," in Yiddish.

"That's cool Logan," Matt said. "Uh, what did ya just say?"

"Haven't the slightest idea."

Susan cut in, "You don't have the slightest idea what you said or—"

"I don't have the slightest idea how I know it."

"Glad you know what you're saying," she chuckled, "Wouldn't want you saying something socially unacceptable."

"Aww, hey! I can cuss in about ten languages for sure."

"Hmmm. Oh my. How nice."

Logan grinned and winked at Matt, "Hey, remind me and I'll teach ya the f-word in a couple other languages."

Susan elbowed Logan in the ribs, "Ok, that will do boys."

Breakfast's arrival saved the conversation from sinking further. "Steak sauce, sir?" the attendant inquired.

"Thought ya said I was gettin' a side of arsenic sauce," Logan quipped, his mood elevated.

"I'm so sorry. We're fresh out. But I do have a cactus pillow for your comfort after breakfast."

He snorted, "Good one, darlin'. How 'bout another scotch and I'll pass on the pillow."

oooOOOooo

"Wow! Like I didn't know you grew up in a freakin' castle Logan," Matthew exclaimed as the rented SUV rounded the bend in the drive.

Logan's dark eyes slanted into a frown. Ghosts of the past churned in his subconscious. "Haunted castle," he muttered.

Defiant, palatial, brooding, the Victorian house dominated the landscape. Three stories of gray, unapologetic wealth complete with turrets jutting skyward conjured up feelings of powerlessness and grief. He snorted, suddenly thinking the turrets in all their phallic splendor were saying bend over sucker, we're gonna getcha double this time.

Noting his strained expression, Susan squeezed his knee reassuringly. "What's that?" she asked pointing left. "Stables?"

The tense lines on his face relaxed a bit, "Uh huh."

"Good grief. The horses lived better than a lot of people I know."

Better'n me most of the time, he thought. His expression clouded again recalling mucking the stalls as punishment over boyhood infractions.

"Logan, I kind of figured you're mom was, shall we say, loaded but I wish you'd have prepared me just a little bit more," she complained.

He shrugged indifferently. Right. Loaded. Yep, darlin' money and power, fun and games. And ya know what? You can take it and all garbage that goes with it and stuff it right back up their asses. Just gimme enough to live on.

He forced a breath of air between clenched teeth. Oh, yeah and I'm living that dogma. Steady paycheck from Charles is damn convenient. Beats bein' down to my last dime between fights. Didn't exactly say no to that trust fund, did ya? What the fuck! Can take the boy outta the manor but I guess ya can't take the manor outta the boy, he thought. His face darkened with unreadable emotion. "Full fuckin' circle," he muttered.

"What?" she inquired quietly.

He shook his head languidly, "Nothin'."

oooOOOooo

Logan's taciturn mood crashed into a brick wall the moment he accepted his mothers welcoming embrace. Something was wrong, very wrong. Illness carried with it a peculiar scent and Elizabeth Howlett reeked.

"James, Susan! You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally here. I trust your flight was uneventful?" She inspected her son carefully, "You seem thinner since October. Are you completely recovered from that virus?"

"Yeah. Ancient history," Logan answered absently, more focused on her health.

"Back to the lumberjack look," she commented to her mutton-chopped offspring. "You've such a handsome face, son. Why do you cover it up?"

He shrugged. No point in explaining his facial hair grew so quickly he'd have to shave at least twice a day. He watched her carefully for outward signs of illness as she showered her attention on his step-son. Could he be imagining something? Did she realize he sensed it?

"Let's see, you must be Matthew?" she offered her hand. "So tall! I think you've grown since I met you last." She sighed, "You remind me so much of James when he was your age."

"Yes ma'am," the boy flushed and returned the handshake.

Addressing Logan and Susan, "And the other boy? Travis is it? I thought he was coming along."

"He couldn't arrange the leave from school," Susan fibbed.

"Oh dear. How unfortunate. I was so looking forward to getting to know both young men."

She embraced Susan warmly, "You must be terribly disappointed yourself." She stepped back from her new daughter in law. "My, you're simply glowing. May I?" She gestured to Susan's pregnant belly. She blushed and nodded approval and the Howlett dowager gently stroked her safely nestled grandchildren. "Are you feeling well these days?"

"I have my good and bad days. The good are definitely more frequent."

"How lucky for you," Elizabeth smiled knowingly.

"Julia and Scott are out and about though I was hoping they'd have returned by now. There's such exciting news to share. But that's for later."

She made simple eye contact and slight gesture to the butler and he silently gathered up an armload of luggage.

"James," she addressed her son by his never used first name, "You and Susan are in the west front turret." She looked to Susan and added, "It's been recently refurbished and I'm sure you'll find it quite charming. Oh," she looked to Logan again, "and I hope you don't mind but I've got Matthew situated in your old room."

He shrugged indifferently, thinking why should he mind? "That's fine. Thanks."

"There are refreshments in the morning room. Please help yourselves and be completely at ease."

"You read my mind," Susan replied effusively. "I honestly can't seem to get enough to eat lately."

Elizabeth laughed, "Enjoy the ready made excuse while you have it, my dear. Now, if you'll all excuse me I've some things to attend to. Cocktails are at five in the drawing room."

Phillip, the butler returned for the remaining luggage. "This way please," he courteously suggested. Footfalls on marble stairs echoed throughout the expansive foyer as the threesome followed behind the slightly plump yet obviously fit and dapper man.

Despite the passage of more than thirty years, Logan intuitively knew the way. At the first landing going right led to what had been his grandfathers and parents suite of rooms. Going left were his and his older brothers rooms and several guest rooms.

A sly grin creased his mouth recollecting sailing down the smooth banister whenever he and his brother thought they could get away with it. Land it wrong; he had more than once and ended up with a busted butt or taking out some precious knick knack Elizabeth liked to keep around. The cloisonné urn he crashed into once earned him a twice busted butt. First, slamming into the hard marble floor and second, the belting afterward.

Much to his chagrin, Susan paused at the landing, intrigued by a family portrait hanging on the wall. His parents attired in what might be called Sunday best and he and John in white shirts and bow ties. John, at thirteen, had graduated to long trousers while he sported short ones.

Matt laughed aloud, "And I thought my mom made me dress weird for pictures."

"Hey, it was nineteen, um—fifty six or seven. Whatdaya expect?" Logan justified.

"How cute!" she gushed examining it more closely. "Your hair stuck up back then, too," she chuckled. "How old were you? Six or seven?"

"You still look like a dork," Matthew teased.

She punched his shoulder, "I wouldn't talk young man. I could dig out a few gems when you were that age."

"Ha, ha! Let's not," Matt replied.

"Then show some respect."

Reminiscent and amused, Logan kept silent.

"Who's this?" Susan pointed to another, older portrait.

For an instant Logan didn't remember but cold, heartless eyes staring from the wall sent a shiver of vivid recollection down his spine. "John Howlett, the Second. My grandfather," he responded bitterly.

Oh boy! Wonder what's the story here she thought? "Isn't this neat," she pointed to a pair of portraits.

"Hmmm?" he replied absently, still locked in a rancorous ocular pissing contest with the image of his grandfather.

She tugged his arm, diverting his attention. "It looks like your mom and Julia painted at about the same age."

"Oh yeah. Must be." He studied them with unusual diligence. Thanks darlin', I needed that. "Never seen 'em before."

A third flight of stairs lead to what used to be servants quarters, converted to storage long before he'd been born. The space had provided the perfect place to play or hideout. He remembered scaring himself half to death in the cobwebbed secret passages.

The Butler led them off to the left, just as Logan predicted, and showed Matt to a room down the hall from him and Susan.

Just as Matthew flung his pack onto the floor Susan instructed, "Unpack your stuff and don't you dare just toss it in the corner."

"If the young man requires assistance I'll return shortly," Phillip offered.

Unaccustomed to such indulgences, Matthew reddened and stammered, "Uh, I'm okay but thanks."

"Very good." Phillip gestured to the bedside telephone, "Should you require anything simply dial three-zero-one. It pages me instantly. If you prefer you may dial three-zero-one, thirteen-thirty- three on your cellular for the same result."

"Coooool!"

"What happened to the old buzzer?" Logan asked

"Replaced in nineteen seventy three, sir."

"Bummer." Logan smirked, "Used to drive ol' what's his name—" Damn, what was his name? Walter? William? Can't remember. "—crazy with it."

"Oh, I'm shocked! Simply shocked, James Logan," Susan teased, "you'd be such a horrid child?"

Phillip cleared his throat, "Indeed," completely cognizant his comment might be taken more than one way. Ever the proper man servant, he was completely above revealing anything Elizabeth shared with him about her sons. Not with out a sense of humor, he added, "If you're particularly nostalgic a few buttons still remain, disabled, of course."

"Hey, John did it first," Logan defended.

"Of course, honey. You were as pure and innocent as a lamb. Not!"

Logan feigned shame before breaking into a rascally grin.

"Oh my! This is lovely," Susan enthused as Phillip swung open the double doors revealing a spacious, welcoming suite in varying tones of beige and blue. A striking sleigh bed, covered in a navy and cream toile coverlet and piled with a multitude of pillows, commanded the left portion. Two winged chairs covered in navy and cream check stood sentry on either side of a fireplace.

Nestled in the turret, a cozy sitting area invited respite. Vases of freshly cut flowers dotted a marble topped bedside stand, a dresser and an octagonal tea table.

"Will there be anything else madam, sir?" the butler inquired formally placing their luggage on an upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

"Can't think of a thing," Susan bubbled.

Any place ta sit down and relax in this joint? "Nah- uh. No thanks," Logan forced a polite reply.

"Very good sir, madam. I'm at your service as well. Good afternoon." Phillip turned crisply and exited silently, closing the door behind without as much as a click of the gilded knob.

"Oh Logan," Susan twirled around whimsically, "look at this place. I feel like a princess in a castle."

"Yeah, I'd forgotten how imposing it is." Logan paced around and sniffed. Recent remodeling all but washed away anything remotely familiar.

"Imposing? I think it's gorgeous," she gushed throwing aside a sheer window drape.

"Look at this view! Look at the lawn! I can just picture a beautiful summer day! A garden party, maybe ladies and gents….

He cut her off, "Pissin' the afternoon away playin' croquet. Right?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way but yeah," her enthusiasm slightly curbed.

Taking in the view from another window, she mused on and on about stables and fox hunts and Gatsby-esque summer soiree's in the gazebo or boat house. "What a place to grow up," she sighed lost in a fantasy.

He frowned. None of her musings conjured any thing remotely pleasant in his mind. "Ain't what it's cracked up to be," he grumbled contemptuously.

She sucked in her breath, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm the most self centered bitch on the planet right now. It seems so idyllic and it's easy for me to forget how much baggage you're carrying around about this place."

He stopped in his tracks, "No darlin' I don't think that. I've been acting like an asshole extraordinaire all day. I'm the one who oughtta be sorry."

Her lips curved with tenderness, "This means a lot to me, you know? Coming here, getting to know your mother."

He sighed, "Yeah, I know." He picked at a loose button on his shirt cuff. "Listen. The whole grandparent thing; it's—it's important to me too."

"You're a good man and I love you."

Don't know about bein' a good man but I'm glad ya love me he thought and returned a loving smile.

"Logan, can I ask you something?"

"Guess so. What?"

"What's all the negativity about your grandfather?"

He replied, "Not going there," in a forbidding tone.

"I understand," she fibbed softly and began unpacking.

No you don't darlin' and ain't sure I do either, he thought. Can only handle so much shit at once. Digging deep, he forced a change of attitude, "The upstairs is different, ya know?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Used to be smaller bedrooms." He pointed left, "I think this used to be Rosie's quarters."

"Who?"

"Rosie."

"I heard the name. Who was she?"

He flushed and murmured, "My nanny."

Susan giggled, "Now that's something I can't picture."

Yeah, well it's tough for me too so let's just drop it, he thought massaging the prickly heat of embarrassment from the back of his neck. "Only 'til I was six or seven." He crossed his arms over his chest and forlorn expression settled on his features, "They sent me off to boarding school after that."

He let out a long, audible sigh and paced the room. "Nice job on remodeling." He played with a panel of wall switches. "Glad to see the electrical's been redone. He pushed a switch next to the fireplace and flames appeared in the firebox, "Remote start gas; nice!"

"Logan, are you ok?"

"Yeah. Sorta."

"I'm getting the feeling you need some space. Why don't you take a walk or something?"

"Yeah, that might be a good idea. Come with?"

"Logan, you need the space, not me. What I really need is a bath and a nap."

"Ok." He flopped into the chair by the fireplace. Yeah, I need some space but this ain't the place. Shit! Anywhere I go's gonna remind me o'somethin' I don't wanna think about. Speakin' of stuff I don't wanna think about, "Sue, did you notice anything unusual about Elizabeth?"

"What?" she yelled over running bathwater.

He moved closer, "I said did you notice anything unusual about my mother?"

"No, not really. Why?"

He shook his head and turned away then quickly blurted, "She's sick."

"Sick! How so?"

"Remember when I told you I could smell sickness? Well …she's got some kind of cancer."

"Oh Logan! Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Distressed, she shut off the bathwater, went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't know what to say. Is there anything you want me to do? Do you want me talk with her?"

He shook his head, "Gotta think about it for a while."

"I'm here for whatever you need."

He kissed the top of her head. You got no idea what that means. "Thanks. I'm gonna check on Matt and take a walk. Need anything?"

She nodded, "Could you bring me something to eat?"

"Ya got it, darlin'. Gettin' critical with the munchies?"

"Uh huh."

The spread of victuals in the morning room made his stomach growl. He filled two delicate china plates with cheese, sausages, finger sandwiches of egg and chicken salad, and sliced fruit. He lifted the crystal lid from an assortment of sweets releasing an aroma of an ages past memory. Chocolate- kirsch balls and Gran Marnier petit fours!

Elizabeth wasn't the maternal or domestic sort but for some odd reason, probably known only to her, she made several batches of these confections every holiday season for as long as he could remember. He laughed out loud thinking about him and his brother begging tastes, especially when she mixed in the liqueurs into the batter.

Logan sensed him before he heard, "May I be of assistance?" Phillip the butler appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Uh, no thanks," Logan answered. "Hey Phil," he pointed to the sweets, "did Elizabeth make these?"

Fleeting irritation crossed Phillips sedate face. Clearing his throat, he replied, "But of course, Jamie. As she's done every year I've been in her employ."

Logan's eyes reflected brief surprise. Jamie! The old coot knows his stuff. "Tell ya what, uh Phillip. Stick with Logan and I'll damn sure remember it's Phillip. Deal?"

"As you wish, sir."

Logan snorted, objecting to sir. Do I look like anybody's sir? Fuck that, he thought. What the hell. He's just doin' his job. Let 'er go. "Right. Thanks," he answered evenly before easing away.

He halted briefly by _the_ portrait on the landing. Steely, condemning eyes mocked him stoking flames of rage and hatred. But there was something else; fear bordering on panic chilled him to the marrow.

Faces, voice, long forgotten, echoed in the recesses of his memory. "…Iron lungs …only one in the province…John…yes without question…James…no chance…no matter… worthless cripple …sanatorium…yes, lock the little bastard away…something more permanent…"

The voices gained clarity and volume as did a sudden adult understanding of an episode deeply buried within his inner child.

"Let nature run the course. No one will question the outcome. Children, especially ones as sickly at the little bugger succumb to the paralysis every season."

"I haven't the stomach for it father."

"Of course you don't. Very well. Go. Care for my grandson. I'll see to this whelp."

A rippled and twisted apparition, the old mans face hovers above his. Imperturbable in expression and emotionless of voice, the elder John Howlett drones, "Sometimes nature needs a helping hand." An icy hand clamps hand over his mouth and pinches his nose.

oooOOOooo

Wrapped in a thick terry robe Susan moseyed from bathroom. "Oh that's just what I nee—"

Head bowed, slumped in the chair by the fireplace he glanced up. Mute wretchedness colored his expression.

"Logan?"

Slowly shaking his head he stared right through her.

"What wrong?"

"He tried to kill me," he murmured almost too quietly.

"What? Who tried to kill you?"

Tracing the checked pattern on the arm of the chair, he answered, "My grandfather."

"Logan, that's a pretty heavy accusation."

"Ain't an accusation. It's a fuckin' fact. You think I'd make something like that up?"

"Of course not. It's just—I know things like that happen—I've seen enough of it in the ER—but—Ok, tell me about it."

"I was sick with polio. So was John. I heard 'em,"

"Heard who?"

"My dad- not my real dad, John and my grandfather. They planned it all out. My dad wanted to send me off to what da ya call 'em, a sanatorium. My grandfather had a better idea. When my dad left the room," Logan squeezed his eyes shut against the memory, "he put his hands over my mouth, like this," he duplicated the actions, "and pinched my nose."

Oh my God! Logan, are you very sure ? Could it have been a fever hallucination or something?"

"Grrrrr! Like I'm fucking hallucinating right now? Go ta fuckin' hell."

His words stung like a slap across the face and she flushed with humiliation and anger. "I don't care what the issue is, don't you ever talk to me like that again."

"Or what?" He bolted out the door.

Nipping at his heels, she shouted, "No. Wait. Logan, please."

Hearing the commotion, Matthew charged from his room and froze at the top of the stairs. "Mom! Logan?"

"Or maybe like your fuckin' ol' man hallucinated these," adrenalin surged rocketing his claws from his knuckles. "Back off Susan," he growled.

Matt's voice cracked with shock and fright, "What's he talking about?"

Susan both terrified and angry yanked him back, "Matt, don't move. Don't say a word."

Redirecting his claws to his grandfathers eyes, his voice raw with unbridled fury, "Ya tried ya mother.fuckin' cowardly sack o'shit!" In one vicious stroke he blinded and lobotomized the effigy.

Scott Summers and Julia Howlett, just back from an afternoons horseback ride, burst through the front door, their happy banter halted by Logan's roar. "Logan! What the hell?" Scott demanded.

"Fuckin' limp dick child killer!" Logan bellowed and neutered his grandfather's likeness.

Julia's wide, terrified eyes locked on six gleaming swords projecting from her brother's hands, "Oh my god!" Retreating behind Scott, her voice vibrated with dread, "Do something. Stop him,"

Logan glared blistering warning and thrusts his claws toward the pair.

Scott reeked of disgust and condemnation. "Don't even think about it.," he warned, instinctively reaching for his ruby colored glasses.

"Scott no!" Susan shouted.

Stoked by the scent of fear, his excessive passion, Logan slashed across the throat of his grandfathers' likeness. "Found a way…" he spat furiously.

"You and your…" Stabbing, his rage running rampant. "… turd stabbing. . ."

Hacking with wild abandon, he thundered, "…cock sucking SON!"

Thrusting brutishly into the belly of his tormentor, his claws lodged into the wall. "Sent me to that. . .," the faintest tremor resonated in his voice, ". . .fuckin' concentration camp. . .," Wrenching them free bits of plaster pelted his face,. ". . .ya called a school."

The memory of being gang raped at Fort Saskatchewan School for Boys exploded in his mind. Pain and humiliation seized his heart driving the breath from his lungs.

"Almost…got…" he gasped out the words as both sets of claws pummeled the portraits remnants. "…your….wish," one brutal blow for each ghastly violation he'd endured.

Ramming his claws into tattered canvas and plaster he bellowed, "Aaaaarrrrggghhh!" and ripped the demolished portrait from its moorings. "Ya fucked up my life!"

Fury unquenched, he hurled it over the banister, splintering the hefty frame to kindling and demolishing a priceless Imari bowl in the process.

"James!" Elizabeth, late on the scene, just missing his manic swordplay and tirade, scornfully observed, "I see thirty five years have done nothing to curb that vile temper of yours." She berated him as she would a juvenile miscreant, "Look what you've done. Put those ridiculous things away. Get 'hold of yourself. You look positively asinine."

Phillip, ever protective, boldly inserted himself between the threat and his employer and pointed a Magnum straight at Logan's chest.

Susan gasped, "You!" The butlers name eluded her. "Stop! You have_ no idea_ what that'll make him do."

Logan glanced at the butler's armament. Arms outstretched and offering his chest as a bull's eye, he sneered, "Bring it on, bub."

Susan pleaded, "Leave him be! Everybody! Please give him space."

"Logan," she implored, "for gods sake put away the claws. Please."

A stalemate, Scott stood fearlessly, poised to blast him into unconsciousness. Phillip, properly cautious, unwaveringly kept the gun trained on him. The cook, a plump fifty- something woman, brandishing a meat cleaver, cowered by the dining room entry. The housekeeper, a young native Canadian woman, crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

Elizabeth glared at her son, exuding not fear but disdain and reproach. Julia bore an equal measure of fright and contempt over her brother's undignified display.

Susan, contorted and pale, reeked of so many emotions he couldn't sort them through.

Fueled by a Molotov cocktail of extreme sentiment and his own ferocity, Logan waged war with himself for control. Eyes raking his audience, his gaze settled on Matthew. It wasn't the boy's fear that got to him. Like a bayonet to the gut, Matthew's lurid disappointment pierced his conscience.

God help me, Logan thought. What am I doin'? The kid should've never seen this." Chest heaving, breath rasping, his claws retracted with a grating SNICKT.

Elizabeth studied the wild eyed man-beast before her. It had been just these sorts of outbursts, sans the claws, that forced her hand when he was nineteen. "What's the meaning of this outburst, James,"

"Payback," he snarled.

"Payback? You're not being rational. What possible triviality are you referring to?"

Susan stared at her mother in law in blatant disbelief. Logan did not explode with savagery over trivialities.

Scott never took his eyes from Logan but a twitch of his jaw gave hint to his condemnation of the woman's assessment.

"Him," he snarled, pointing to the ruined portrait. "Cunt licker tried to put me down like some kind of stray mutt."

Unobtrusively, Susan closed the distance between them. Cautiously touching his elbow, she softly encouraged, "Logan, tell your mother what you told me."

He growled and recoiled from her touch. His eyes darted frantically as he struggled to confine the demons inside. He chuckled mordantly, "He tried to kill me."

"James, you're mad," Elizabeth retorted dubiously. "Your grandfather was a ruthless business man, tyrannical patriarch, shameless philanderer but certainly not a murderer."

Her cavalier repudiation threw sulfuric acid onto his wounded soul, "Get a fuckin' clue woman!" he bellowed.

He locked eyes with his mother and inhaled deeply. Her scent, her countenance told him all he needed to know; she really doesn't get it. He thought what the fuck am I doin' here? Wasn't wanted to start with and it ain't ever gonna change.

Crumbling on the insides, he squared his shoulders and stalked to the front door, his expression an open challenge. There were no takers.

Susan descended a few steps, "Logan?"

He gazed only at her. In their depths, his eyes reflected hurt and torment that only she read accurately.

"I'm outta here," his voice faded, losing its steely edge He slammed the front door behind him.

**Authors Notes: Gotta give Rhiannon UK mucho gratitude for beta reading, some of the riper verbage and kicking my butt when it was needed. **  



	35. Chapter 35

**Authors Note: Part of this is a repost of my previous chapter and I apologize for the SNAFU. Don't skim to much because in the middle I've added significant material and the last section is new. The old, unchanged material is in bold. **

**CHAPTER SIXTY**

**"Whoa! Maybe Travis was right," Matthew Allen Harris muttered over the echoing boom of the slamming door.**

**My heart shattered like crystal seeing the misery in Logan's eyes. Damn his family. No child should ever suffer so much.**

**Matthews' utterance and the fear I saw etched on his beautiful face burned my sensibilities, raised my hackles. Damn you Logan for scaring the shit out of my child! Damn your PTSD!**

**I felt fragmented to bits. Completely at a loss of direction. "Matt, don't. Just don't," is all I could muster.**

**"This is all my fault." It came out far more helpless than I wanted. But the energy drained right out of my body and all I could do was lower myself to the stair step and hug my knees. Habitually, I rubbed my belly. The twins kicked up a ruckus, stimulated by my adrenalin crossing into their little nervous systems.**

**Scott defended, "No way in hell, Susan." His voice grew caustic, "Don't you ever take blame for him."**

**I dropped my head in my lap. Damn me for pushing Logan into this. I ignored every single warning. What was I thinking? "Oh, I just should have known."**

**Matt's incredibly intuitive and mature for a boy his age. He sat on the step beside me and leaned against my shoulder silently giving and receiving comfort.**

**"Is he coming back?" Julia queried.**

**Scott nodded.**

**"When he's cooled down," I replied.**

**"Should some one go after him?" Julia asked, looking mostly to Scott.**

**"Not if you value your hide," Scott answered.**

**"Oh yes," he'll return," Elizabeth clipped, "and if past history is any guide he'll be intolerably glum, withdrawn and drink himself insensate."**

**My eyes burned into Elizabeth's. She didn't even blink. Logan's right. She really hasn't got a clue. Knows nothing about him. Not the depth of Logan's feelings, his pain or just how dangerous he can be when pushed beyond his limits.**

**"What I must know is what on earth precipitated this monomaniacal spectacle?" she spat sanctimoniously.**

**Oh my gosh! How cold. Arrogant. Insensitive. For a minute I wanted to slap the stupid bitch and then I remembered: all Logan said to her was his grandfather tried to kill him. Calm. Take a breath Sassy Girl. She's not a mind reader. "Elizabeth, can I ask a question?"**

**She seemed offended. "I beg your pardon?"**

**"You may," I hissed. "But if you want to know what precipitates Logan's _spectacle_, as you call it…" I know I sounded like a tin plated bitch but I figured I better out- bitch her. "… I need to understand something from you."**

**"If you must."**

**How can she have the gall to sound insulted? Does she have no mothering instincts? If I thought Matt or Trav had ever! "Elizabeth," I pulled out my soothing, professional voice, "please tell me what happened when Logan had polio."**

**The color drained from her face and that haughty attitude evaporated. Suddenly I saw a familiar flicker of pain in her eyes. She squared her shoulders and just that fast regained control. "Change into something presentable and we'll speak in my study." She looked at Matthew and then to Scott and Julia. "Privately," she concluded.**

**I looked down at myself and blushed. Oops! I'm in my bathrobe.**

**Oh dear," she suddenly noticed the poor housekeeper passed out from fright on the floor, "Are there smelling salts around?"**

**"Never mind that," I said descending the stairs. "Here, someone get her to the couch and elevate her feet." Phillip and Scott did the honors. Fortunately the woman sunk to the floor instead of toppling over like a statue. I really didn't think she'd hit her head. She came around in moments, anxious and embarrassed. I wonder if the poor kid will quit.**

**"Matt, are you ok?" I asked ascending the stairs. I didn't want to leave him alone at the moment knowing full well he needed answers and reassurance more than anyone.**

**"Yeah. Mom what's really going on? I mean Logan's like totally freaked or somthin'."**

**"I know. I need to get the whole story, kiddo. Matt, what did you mean when you said Travis was right?"**

**"I dunno. Maybe it wasn't Travis so much as Dad. I overheard 'em talking a couple nights ago. Dad said Logan was some kind of criminal."**

**Oh my god! What dirt had Allen dug up? Whether Logan meant to or not his actions may have lit a dynamite fuse. I shuddered, thinking about the fallout.**

**"What do you think?"**

**Matt looked away, too kind and caring for my feelings to say what I know he was thinking. How could he not after what he'd just witnessed?**

**"Just keep a level head and an open mind, son," I replied with more confidence than I felt. "Stay here," I gestured to his room, "and we'll talk as soon as I'm done with Elizabeth."**

**"Yes ma'am."**

**"Matthew."**

**"Ma'am?"**

**"Logan is NOT a criminal."**

**SIXTY TWO**

**"I'm outta here." Before I come apart or kill somebody or both.**

**I slammed that fuckin' door and rammed the back o'my head against it. "Aaarrrgghh!"**

**Yeah kid, yer brother's right. I'm a fuckin' animal and sooner or later I'm gonna fuck up everything.**

**I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking. My strides are long and fast. My breath steams from my nostrils and mouth. Fuck! It's cold. So how come I'm sweatin'?**

**People don't change…people don't change, ricochets inside my skull. Gotta get away. Purge the voices, escape the memories. Suddenly I'm running, barreling across the lawn, tearing through the woods. Don't care that the branches slash my face, rip my shirt. Bring it on. Hurt me. Cut me. I can take it. I fuckin' want it. Physical pain's a drug; a salve that soothes the festering mental scabs that never quite heal.**

**I break into a clearing and stop dead in my tracks. Before me stands a huge taunting statue, surrounded by half dozen stone sentries. Don't take keen eyesight to read the inscriptions.**

**"Aaarrrrrrrrggghhh" Another shot of adrenalin and the claws shoot out o' my knuckles. Vaulting the iron fence I charge. Easy as warm butter my claws take the marble likeness of my grandfather off at the knees. "Motherfucker!" I bellow, putting three clean stabs through his midsection. Roaring, "Cock sucker!" I decapitate the bugger.**

**It feels good, cleansing and I go for the next statue. Whoa, stand down Wolverine! I pull back. No cause to take down my great grandfather's grave or Franklin Howlett, whoever the fuck he was.**

**There's the one! John H.P. Howlett, III is etched in bold script. Take this ya shit packer. "Aarrgghh!" Clean as a whistle I split another granite marker right down the middle.**

**I swing around, poised to strike another. Blow me! Why the fuck is Thomas Logan buried here? "Rrrrrrahhhrrr" I stab my claws dead center and the marker splits into six pieces. I thrust my claws to the sky and bellow, "Burn in fuckin' hell!"**

**I sweep my arms down to decimate yet another marker. In a split second my mind registers it and my claws snap back. My fists hit it so hard I can feel the shockwave radiate through the metal in my bones. I fall to my knees, hugging that cold stone like it _is_ my dead brother's body. "I'm sorry John. God, I'm so sorry." I suck in my breath holding back stupid tears. "Why'd you hafta die?"**

**"Screw this! Had this conversation before, didn't we? I remember. Asked ya the same thing. Guess ya still don't have an answer. Listen to me, I'm raving like a maniac. Probably cuz I am, bro. Yeah, the Rabbit's fuckin' certifiable."**

**I chuckle recalling his nickname for me. "Ain't Rabbit anymore. Got stuck with Wolverine. Damn! I'd win every fuckin' scary campfire story telling how I got it." I snort, "Ya know, it's supposed to be me here. Couple o'times over."**

**I glance to the last small marker. Through tear blurred eyes I make out the crest of the Canadian Army. Suddenly I'm laughing, a strangled, insane cackle. Fuck me! I_ am_ here. Etched in black marble is James Andrew Logan, August 12, 1950 to November 1, 1983.**

**I slump to the frozen ground, my back pressed against JP's marker. I thrust my leg, growl and topple my marker. My growl ends in a strangled choke and the floodgates burst. Can't help it. I'm bawlin' like a baby.**

**SIXTY THREE**

**I threw on a pair of jeans and one of Logan's flannel shirts mostly because it was handy. But wearing it gives me a sense of comfort and silly or, not I hoped it sent a message of solidarity with my husband. Never mind that he had a minor ass kicking coming much later.**

**Elizabeth, enthroned in a chair by a fireplace, projected the very image of dowager royalty. The study; dark, masculine, grandiose certainly didn't detract from her countenance.**

**Raising one eyebrow, so very similar to Logan's expression, she motioned me to a matching seat opposite hers. Score one for me; I think she got my message.**

**We both opened our mouths at the same instant. "I need to understand….." I began.**

**"Whatever possessed…" We both paused. I let her continue figuring I'd get more out of her that way. "…James to go on so?"**

**"That's just what I'm trying to find out." Is there a diplomatic way to phrase this? Without her thinking I'm as whacked- out as Logan? Probably not. Just go for it. "He told me his grandfather tried to suffocate him."**

**She scoffed, "And I assume, because of your asking, it has something to do with when my sons had polio?"**

**"Yes." And wish he were here to tell you firsthand what he told me because I don't want to get this wrong. I closed my eyes trying to hear exactly what Logan had said. "He really didn't say much other than his grandfather…," I demonstrated just as Logan had.**

**She seemed unconvinced and a teeny-weeny part of me feels the same. Yet--. "So what can you tell me about it?"**

**"Actually, precious little."**

**She's going to make me dig for this, I can tell. Crap! I hate playing psychologist. Wake up woman! This is no time for games. "Why?"**

**"Because neither my husband nor his father ever sent word the boys were ill until it was too late."**

**Crud! Shut down before we're even out of the gate. We sat silently, staring through brick walls at one another.**

**"Before I discuss anything Susan, you must understand there are certain things I consider off limits…"**

**Right! Anything that might tarnish this bogus Shangri- la you've cocooned yourself in for forty years.**

**Elizabeth continued to lecture, "Recounting them serves no purpose. It's long past and best forgotten."**

**"Even at Logan's expense?" I sound critical and too damn bad!**

**"If it means circumventing his vicious temper, yes," she leveled.**

**"Elizabeth, we're not talking about a two year old having a fit over a lost toy or something. Behavior like this is…."**

**"Typical."**

**"No it's not. It's a plea for validation," I rebuke.**

**"Susan, I'll admit…" she gestured with her hands, alluding to his claws, "…those things are a new twist but believe me; he's got a long history of outbursts of this sort."**

**"Outbursts?"**

**"Yes. Crude verbal tirades, wrecking things, appalling drunken behavior…"**

**"Why?" I interrupt. "What precipitated them?"**

**"Oh for heaven's sake, how do you expect me to remember?" she snapped and then continued. "Honestly, I'm not certain what provokes him. From the time John Paul died…." She raised her eyebrows, blanched and gasped.**

**"Elizabeth?" Is she going to stroke on me? "Are you all right?"**

**She shook her head and then seemed to stare through me. Almost too quietly to hear she muttered, "It makes no sense…" Louder, she continued, "The timing's right."**

**Stroke out or lose her mind. What made no sense? Timing? Shut my face and listen.**

**She wrung her hands and licked her lips, "I was in Paris taking in the spring couture exhibitions. When John called me, John Paul had just been placed on an iron lung…" tears formed in her eyes, "and he told me his heart was inflamed. When I asked about my baby boy he was vague."**

**She took a deep breath, "I criticized him for not contacting me sooner and he swore he'd left messages and even sent a cable. He hadn't but in nineteen fifty six trans- Atlantic communications were quite unreliable, you know. I took the first plane back and arrived…" she hung her head and openly wept.**

**Oh god! This is every mother's nightmare. How many times when I was deployed or drilling did I wake up in a panic over a nightmare of something happening to Travis or Matthew? I went to her with a wad of tissues and knelt beside her.**

**She blotted her eyes. "…just as the coroner loaded a body into the hearse."**

**Her tone grew sharp, "My husband was a complete wreck. My father in law was in a rage and the entire staff was in a state. No one would tell me.**

**Suddenly her expression became blank, "My memory is somewhat unclear. John Paul's funeral was unbearable. Every one seemed wrapped in private grief. My husband had the unmitigated gall to have Simon there."**

**"Simon?" I asked.**

**"His lover."**

**Okee-dokee! Just knock me over with a feather. Does Logan know about this? Oh please, just one issue at a time. I guess I did a poor job keeping my expression neutral.**

**"Yes Susan, John was gay. Actually I suppose the correct term would be bi-sexual, though that's not quite how it was phrased in those days. I can't believe James didn't share that with you. It's quite beside the point, though. Where was I? Thomas was on one of his binges and…."**

**This wasn't going where it needed to. Keeping my voice neutral and kind, "Elizabeth," I interrupted, "tell me what was going on with Logan."**

**"He was inconsolable…" Her tone turned ugly, " and clung to Rose as if_ she_ were his mother"**

**"Rose was his governess?"**

**"Yes."**

**A gentle knock and, "Ma'am…" Phillips oh-so-proper voice invaded our privacy. "…I've just received word from the groundskeeper there's an intruder vandalizing the burial grounds."**

**SIXTY FOUR**

**The drone of a trucks engine yanked me from my dirge and it wasn't long before the downwind stink of diesel exhaust assaulted my senses. I swiped my shirt sleeve over my sniveling mug and hauled myself upright.**

**Slowly, a dark green pick- up cruised into sight; some dude, fair haired, pale and anemic, 'bout late thirties or so bundled against the cold in a parka, yammered into one of those ear piece cell phones. "Never seen the likes o' this 'un aboot these locales…" he said with a strong Cannuck dialect. "Soft inna head or bleedin' stupid…. got no coat on…What's the missus want me to do, eh?"**

**He eyed me warily. I could smell a measure of anxiety and irritation on him. He pointed a shot gun at my gut level. "Hey hoser, what is it you think you're doing?"**

**Hoser? Is he fuckin' kidding? And what's with the pop gun? For a second I thought about swipin' it out o'his grip but when I did the math, by the time I closed the gap between us he'd have time to get off both barrels. My day was fucked enough already without dickin' around with a belly full of lead. "What's it to ya, bub?"**

**"You're on private property and from what I see you've just landed yourself in quite o'fix. Any idea what the penalties are for trespassing and defacing a private cemetery, eh?"**

**"No fuckin' clue but I'll bet yer gonna enlighten me." Suddenly a verbal spar seemed like the almost perfect relief. Maybe not as good a crackin' a skull in a cage fight but what the fuck! The guy's just doin' his job. Can't hold that against 'im.**

**"Do what?" he said, obviously not to me. "Ask him his name? Oh for the love of God! Who gives a damn. He probably escaped from….Fine." He jutted the gun toward me.**

**"Who are ya, man?"**

**I couldn't resist fuckin' with the idiot. I spread my arms, flicked my fingers, dared him to pull the trigger. He didn't have the balls to shoot. "I'm a dead man walkin'."**

**That flustered him, "Right. Look, will ya just identify yourself!"**

**"I ain't shittin' ya bub. Look, right here," I pointed to the black granite marker. "See what it says? James Andrew Logan. I'm just a fuckin' apparition from hell."**

**"He's a nutcase," he said into the cell.**

**That too, I muttered and turned away suddenly bored with it all. I shoved my hand into my pockets and trudged along the roads edge.**

**Ka-click! He cocks the gun and demands, "And where do ya think you're going?"**

**Turning, walking backwards, I shrugged. Anywhere the hell I please. I touched my forehead in mock salute, offered him clear shot off my back and kept walking.**

**I heard him cuss and disengage the gun. He followed along a few yards behind and I could still make out bits his conversation."Eh-yep. .. over- grown sideburns…. a cross between James Dean …. Wolfman Jack." Suddenly he laughed like a hyena. "Phillip, old man, …. ya had a drop of humor ... Quit pullin' my leg…... prodigal son missus H has been puttin' us through …. for? …. batty as she is, if you want my opinion…"**

**He shouted, "Hey, you!"**

**Fuck off, bub. Can't ya tell when a man wants some peace? I kept walking in the opposite direction of the main house.**

**"Somebody named Susan wants to talk to ya, eh."**

**I paused in my tracks for a split second and then slowed my pace a beat. Bloody fuckin' hell! Dug m'self into a shit hole and don't have a clue which way's out.**

**"You deaf?" he shouts again.**

**I turn fast, glaring my best death scowl. He hits the breaks too hard making the truck skid on the loose gravel.**

**SIXTY FIVE**

**Phillip's proper countenance is showing strain even though his voice remains calm, "He says he'll return in a while."**

**I, on the other hand, am not looking or sounding calm. Traversing territory I've got no right too, besides desperately not wanting to misinterpret or misrepresent, I feel resentful, imposed upon. These are Logan's problems. "Then he can damn well tell me himself," I snap then shift uncomfortably in my seat. I've got a distracting cramp in my lower back.**

**"Mrs. Logan wishes to speak to him directly," Phillip relays. After about a minute, maybe more, he winces, pulls the phone from his ear and hands it too me.**

**"Logan?"**

**"Huh?"**

**Pacing, a bit like he does, "Are you ok?"**

**"What the fuck do you think?"**

**"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." You're a pissed off wreck and it's probably best you're in your own space right now.**

**"I'm…hangin' in."**

**"Are you coming back soon?" Darn it! What's with this backache?**

**There's a long pause before he replies, "I'll be back when I'm fuckin' good and ready. And get this darlin', you and Matt be packed cuz we're outta here."**

**Ok. Can't say that declaration was unexpected and there's no point in debating logistics with a brick wall. "Whatever you think's best.**

**He grunts in response.**

**"Logan."**

**"Hmm."**

**"I love you."**

**After another pause he sighs, "Yeah."**

**I hear a click and the connection's broken. Rolling my eyes toward the ornately plastered ceiling I offer a silent prayer. Oh Lord, please keep him from doing anything stupid. Rubbing my belly, which is rigid as a basketball, I hand the cell back to the butler. There's no telling how long he's gonna be. Ten minutes? Ten hours? Whatever it is, I need to make progress with Elizabeth P.D.Q. I need to sit down too. Something just doesn't feel right.**

**"I can assume he's still quite volatile," Elizabeth intuits.**

**What was your first clue, toots? With a polite nod, I continue interrogating, "Elizabeth, how did Logan react—um, what was Logan like after John Paul died?"**

**"I told you, he was completely inconsolable."**

**"Right. But how? What did he do?"**

**"That was years ago. How do you expect me to remember? "**

**You're his mother, aren't you? This conversation's going in circles. "Elizabeth, please. try."**

**"All right. Yes, there was a distinctive change afterwards. John and I…."**

**I don't give a rats bee-hind about you and John. "Let's keep the focus on Logan, please. What did you mean by inconsolable?"**

**"What do you think?" she exploded.**

**What do I think? I think you know a lot more than you're saying and I'm getting sick of this game. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking. Does anything in particular stand out?"**

**"Many things stand out, young woman and if you think I'm unaware of what you're doing, you're quite mistaken. Make your point."**

**"All right, I will," I shot back removing the kidd gloves, "Something traumatic, besides the death of his brother, happened to Logan and I think you know."**

**"Very well. Yes!" she blasted right back. "Something did happen." Suddenly she turned mournful, "But God forgive me, I don't know what for certain. Until now, I never quite put it together."**

**Here's my shot. Use it or lose it. "Is it possible his grandfather _did_ try to kill him?"**

**Hanging her head, she mewls, "Aah-oohh!"I don't know." Shaking her head, she murmurs, "It makes no sense…"**

**"It never does," My voice hitches slightly as another cramp wraps around my midsection.**

**As if someone flipped a switch her mood permutated, "Everything changed radically after John Paul died. It was the final straw between John and me and we rarely spent any length of time in one another's presence again.**

**Here we go again. All about her. "What about Logan?" Can't keep the frustration out of my voice.**

**"I'm getting to that," she responded just as cuttingly.**

**There's another pause; long enough for the huge clocks' ticking to be annoying. Then, almost contritely, she continues, "There's something you must understand Susan. I was not well and indeed I was often absent for long periods."**

**I looked at her questioningly, not daring to verbalize lest I stop the flow.**

**"I've always been cursed with unnatural mood swings. I'd become overwhelmed with terrible, black moods and be hospitalized. It wasn't until—oh let me see; the mid-sixties that my condition was properly diagnosed and effective treatment begun."**

**"Bi-polar Disorder?" I queried delicately, remembering Logan mentioned it once.**

**Nodding somberly, "Yes, and as you might imagine, immediately after John Paul's death I suffered a severe setback."**

**I nodded, trying to convey understanding. Medically, professionally, I did and I knew her story had a huge bearing on Logan's. Maternally, it was a stretch.**

**"Enough about me, though. Before…that terrible time…" Picking up a framed photograph from the table beside her, she looks on it wistfully, lovingly. "See this. He was just thirteen months old." She handed it to me. "James was a precious, articulate, gregarious little boy."**

**You're not kidding! Absolutely adorable with dark, thick curls, wide innocent eyes and handsome, cherubic face that shouted I'm all little boy! And those pudgy little legs and feet; the kind a mom just wants to nibble on and play This Little Piggy. I could easily envision him laughing and blowing spit bubbles.  
**

**"Did you know that by that age he spoke quite plainly?"**

**"Did he?" There's much a photo can't reveal. "Looking at it you'd never see the…" crap you put him through. "… all the difficulties everyone faced."**

**"Those difficulties came later. You see, whenever I was pregnant and for, oh perhaps a year or so after, I'd be well or at least in an upswing. For a few short years we actually were a somewhat normal, happy family."**

**"What changed?**

**"Nothing drastic-- at least until—and then afterward, James was completely changed."**

**"How so?"**

**"Right afterwards…"**

**"You mean after the polio?"**

**"Yes. He stopped speaking for several months."**

**"Completely?"**

**"Nearly completely. He'd speak to Rose and some of the other staff. He spoke to me much less so but perhaps my perception was faulty. There were other signs but I was simply too wrapped up in my illness to pay attention."**

**I had to cut her a bit of slack. "Elizabeth, I'm not a psychiatrist or psychologist but I do understand that in those days there wasn't effective treatment for your condition. You had little control."**

**"That may be so, but one never puts aside the guilt."**

**"Hmmm." Maybe she does have a conscience. "I can't begin to imagine."**

**We sat in silence for a few moments. I needed a way to get things back on track yet again. She's a master at steering things toward her. "What other signs—in Logan, that is?"**

**"Oh my. He became the complete opposite of what he'd been. We had him examined by many doctors. The consensus was he suffered grief over the loss of his brother and the cure was to go on normally. He'd outgrow it."**

**"But he didn't."**

**"No… and yes."**

**SIXTY SIX**

**Stupid fuck! She said she loves ya and whatdaya do? Hang up. Just keep diggin' m'self in deeper. Love ya back darlin', ya gotta know that.**

**If stupid don't quit followin' me I'm gonna turn that truck into scrap. Hell with it, let's see if he wants to follow through the woods. I make an abrupt left and sprint toward a deep pine grove. "Sayonara bub," I call over my shoulder.**

**It's peaceful and beautiful. Inhaling the pine infused frigid air I feel my agitation ratchet down a couple o'points. Blue jays flit between the branches playing tag with cardinals. Can't see 'em but I can hear squirrels chatterin' over my head. They ain't too pleased with a human invading their space. There's space under a magnificent specimen of a tree; must be over a hundred years old. The branches are so thick the snow can't gather 'round its base. Silent as a forest creature, I seat myself under its canopy. I'm calmer and it's time to take stock. I've created a monumental cluster fuck and the fix ain't simple.**

**Don't particularly give a damn 'bout trashing that portrait. The boneyard? Well, it's gonna cost me a pretty penny to repair the damage but what the fuck? Pissed Elizabeth off? Not the first time. Scott's opinion in this case ranks about whale shit level and don't have a feelin' one way or the other 'bout Julia.**

**Susie, now that's an issue; or rather she's gonna have issues with me. Never, ever wanted her to see me like that.**

**Matthew. I groan out loud. Lost the older one through no fault of my own and now I may have blown it with him. Even if I haven't, his ole man get wind o'this….aw shit! I won't matter. Allen'll yank that kid away from Susie so fast and then...She'll never forgive me.**

**The sun's beginning to set and it's getting colder. Can't hurt me but I still feel it. I shrug off a shiver and get back on my feet. I'm going back to the house o'horrors, gather up my family and get outta Dodge.**

**The woods give way to the lawns edge and a clear view of the back o'the house. Like the front, it's gussied up for the holidays with elaborate lighting strung on the shrubbery. My presence alerts a pair furred sentries. Dashing across the expanse of snow the Doberman's bark warning. I freeze in my tracks and stare them down. They get within a few feet and the male growls but they're all noise and bluster.**

**I hear a feminine voice call, "Gunther! Gretchen! Come." Can't see the source and I'm upwind, but it's Julia.**

**"Sit," I command. A bit to my surprise they obey.**

**She strolls into my line of sight. Oh joy! Boy Scout's with her. They're wrapped around each other like sticky tape.**

**"What the heck are they after?" she fumes and pushes him away. "If they go off into the woods…"**

**"Don't worry about it, angel," Scott consoles. The sudden sour look on his face tells me he's spotted me. "What do you think you're doing?" he demands.**

**"What's it look like?" I reply casually.**

**The look on Julia's face is priceless as I stroll across the lawn, her pets heeled obediently at my side. "Oh! Now I see," she snarks, regaining compsosure. "They do like to chase wild vermin."**

**The look on her face is pure disgust. "Gunther, Gretchen, home," she commands and they bolt toward the house. "I'll thank you to leave them alone," she orders.**

**Moving toward Captain Tight Ass and Shark Queen I'm hit by a revelation. Lil' sis' bluster is a screen. She's scared shitless o'me and the stink's rollin' off her like the back end of a garbage truck in summer. Sorry sis. Goin' ballistic wasn't in the plan but ain't got what it takes to debate it with ya.**

**Waving 'em off, Julia flinches and Scott postures defensively. "Logan, if you think you're going back in there ..."**

**"Who the fuck ordained you the master of the manor," I snarled.**

**"I did," Julia challenged, "when I agreed to marry him on Christmas day."**

**Who doused me with ice water? My sister? Scott-cattle prod- up his- ass-Summers? Married? I chuckle. The more I think about it the funnier it is and suddenly I'm laughing out loud. Gotta be a rebound reaction from what went down earlier.**

**Summers ain't amused, I can tell by his clenched jaw. One o'these days he's gonna crack a molar.**

**"Good luck to ya both." You deserve each other. I walk past, giving them wide berth and call over my shoulder, "Hey Scott, take your visor off and get a good look before ya jump in." Shit around here's piled high and deep.**

**"What's that supposed to mean?" Julia grilled.**

**"Not a thing," Scott answered. "He's just practicing to be the brother-in-law from hell." He called to me, "Logan, things are calm inside. Keep it that way."**

**I don't even dignify him with a backwards glance or shrug. Man o'man! Who dropped him on his head when he was a baby? Hooking up with my sister? Signing on to his nut house? Monty Python said it right. Run away!**

**I bound up the steps and boldly grasp the door handle. And then I pause as that cold feeling expands in my gut. Can't quite figure out what it is. Apathy, confusion, guilt, shame, hate, resignation, fear? Pick one.**

**Wrenching open the door, I'm relieved not to be met by anyone. The mess I made's been cleaned up. There's a helluva dent in the table top. Guess I'll add that to the repair tab. There's a scarred, empty space one wall going upstairs. Wonder what she'll put in its place?****Safe bet it won't be a portrait o'me. That's fine. Ain't a Howlett and once and for all glad of it. Guess she did me a favor after all.**

**It takes a second or two before I hear voices down the hall beyond the staircase.**

**Moving toward them, Susan's and hers, I realized where they're coming from. Don't it fuckin' figure? The study. How fitting. That room's been a place of bitter endings forever. Let's do it one more time. Pausing for a moment, I take in the conversation.**

**"…sending him to boarding school seemed to do wonders…"**

**I thrust open the door. Both of 'em just about jump out o'their skin. Elizabeth wears a sour, irritated scowl. Gee, wonder where I've seen that before? "That's your answer for everything, isn't Mother." the word mother came out sounding like an infectious disease. "Send the problem away, right?"**

**Susie gives a little gasp then comes to me. "Hey," she says tenderly and wraps her arms around my waist. Too wound up and feeling betrayed that she's fraternizing with the enemy, I wrench free. She backs up and exhales "Hoo-kay. I'm sorry." I can smell the hurt and irritation.**

**"No it's not," Elizabeth shoots back. "You've only gotten part of the conversation. Kindly sit, control yourself and I'll continue discussing this with your wife…and you."**

**"Nothing to discuss. And keeping with tradition, the problem's goin'. Susan, are we packed?"**

**"Not quite," she replies evasively. "Logan, you need to hear what your mother has to say." She's got that I know what's best tone and it stokes up my piss off meter.**

**My reply's rough and I mean it that way. "I told you I wanted us packed and ready. Now get to it or we're leaving without our stuff."**

**She give me her nastiest hairy eyeball but then coaxes, "Logan, please. I'm all for going home as soon as possible but if you don't take a few minutes and hear your mother out…"**

**"I'll regret for the rest of my life, right? Fuck it Susan. If I stay here any longer everybody else is gonna regret it. Now get moving."**

**"I will not! You talk about wanting to sort out your past and how far you've come dealing with all the issues. I'm behind you a hundred and ten percent but this is something you hafta listen too. I don't care if you sit or stand, but shut your trap and open your ears for five minutes. Then we can go."**

**Bang! I think my wife just hit me with a figurative two by four. Even so, ain't ready to listen to anybody. "Gimme one good reason why?"**

**Looking at me with those blue eyes and using that gentle, pleading voice she answers, "Because I asked you too."**

**Aw shit! See the neon sign over my head blinkin' sucker? "Fine!" Glaring at Elizabeth, "You got five your minutes," I grumble.**

"James, Susan, will you please sit?"

She does while I shake my head, cross my arms and lean against a bookshelf. No way in hell can I sit still.

Elizabeth sighs and straightens her shoulders. "Let me make something very clear, James. Her tone's crisp and defensive. It's doing nothing to calm me down. "I sent you away once and only once.."

My snort's reflexive. I can't let go of my feelings of betrayal and distrust. "That's a crock."

Arching that fine brow, she rebutts stiffly, "I'll not stand for being called a liar."

The stench of her anger's like liquid butane too close to a flame. "Then who did, Elizabeth? Six years old and ya sent me away the first time …"

"Boarding school was your fath…John's idea," she defended vehemently. "If I'd been able to make my opinion known I'd have not allowed it— not that soon anyway."

"You didn't stand up for me?"

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because—I wasn't there."

"Oh yeah. That's right. If ya weren't dumping me somewhere you made damn sure to be out o'range when the shit flew. Where were you? Monte Carlo? The Riviera?" Gesturing violently, I press on, "What about Fort Saskatchewn?

"You're grandfather sent you."

"That's a goddamn lie!" I explode. Pointing at the floor, "You stood almost in this very spot! I begged you not to send me!"

"I had no choice."

"Bull shit," I growl and glance at my watch.

"Please son, let me explain…"

"Nothin' to explain and five minutes were up two minutes ago." Turning abruptly I stalk to the door. Glancing over my shoulder I command, "Susan, now!"

Rising to her feet, Susan reaches out, pleading, "Logan, please."

"You don't understand the power your grandfather exerted," Elizabeth blurts desperately.

Don't know what's stopping me from going through that door. Maybe it's cuz I don't smell a lie on her. Maybe what I remember ain't the way it went down. Right! And the tooth fairy's real. "All right explain it," I snarl. Time to lance, debride and cauterize the fucking boil.

"I'll need longer than five minutes, James."

"Just get on with it. And don't fuckin' call me James! He's dead. The proof's…" I point in the directions of the cemetery, "…out there."

"God forgive me," Elizabeth gasps. "That headstone was supposed to be removed last summer."

Aghast, Susan probes, "What are you talking about?"

I laugh derisively, "I'm dead. Didn't ya know that darlin'? It's etched on the fuckin' thing. Name, date; the whole nine yards. Sneering at Elizabeth, "Classy piece o'stone work, mother. Gives me a warm, fuzzy knowin' ya cared."

Suddenly I recall the headstone that made no sense. Bracing my arms on the desk, I lean forward, "While we're on the subject, why's Tom buried there?"

She seemed to shrink and age right before my eyes. Taut silence settled. The stench of despair, guilt, you name it; assaulted my senses worse than a Super-fund site. The ticking clock, racing hearts, set up an irritating pulsing in my brain.

In a broken whisper, she finally spoke, "Ja—Logan, I don't know where to begin."

Standing there, arms crossed over my chest, can't mask bitterness. Neither do I, bitch. "Just begin, ok," I growl impatiently.

Squaring her frail shoulders, "Very well. I'll work backwards." Her eyes glazed over and her face became toneless. "Tom is buried there because he was a Howlett."

Stunned, my head snaps up. Well shut my pie hole!

"Yes, it's true," Elizabeth insists, "though I didn't discover the fact until after your grandfather died. Tom was the love child of a liaison with a house servant…"

My mind tried to wrap around it. Ok, so John was my uncle? My father, who I thought was just some nobody really was—a Howlett? Aww, geeze! It fuckin' turns my stomach. The whole deal's wrong on so many levels.

She continued, "…and if you required details of that sordid mess I'm afraid I don't have them."

I shook my head.

"I appreciate your indulgence." Abruptly her mood shifted from icy indifference to contrition. "Now to clarify Fort Saskatchewan; that was solely your grandfather's doing. I never knew of the situation; the horrors you endured until you came back."

"How can you sit there and say that?" I thundered. "I wrote letter after letter."

"I never received any of them. He arranged for every communication to be diverted to an attorney who disposed of them."

"And you didn't think anything of it, eh?" I can see it now. Mutant bastard's locked away somewhere so ya can just go on with your perfect life."

"Yes," she cried, "and no!" Weeping openly, her words tumbled forth. "I was afraid of you—and for you. After the deaths you became so, so; oh, I don't know. Withdrawn, brooding---deviant."

"Deviant? What the hell's that mean?"

"Perhaps that's an incorrect term. Reckless. Yes, reckless. Putting yourself in harms way, injuring yourself. I didn't know how to help you. I was expecting your sister. I deluded myself into believing your grandfather's solution was best for everyone."

"What about the other times?"

"Other times?"

Yeah, before Fort Saskatchewan. I'd no sooner come home on a holiday or something and boom, shipped off or pawned off on whoever while you…" I'm choking on the words, "…you did what ever it was you did."

"Whom ever," Elizabeth corrected, "and that's not entirely true."

"Oh right, I forgot. Sometimes you and John were around. Then it was really fun," I mock. If ya weren't abusin' each other then I was catching an ass whipping. If it wasn't that then you were both too drunk to give a shit or too busy fuckin' anybody but each other. "Elizabeth, just what the hell is the truth?"

"The truth is I traveled to stay away from your grandfather." Her face went grim; her voice bitter, "He raped me before John and I were married. He tried once after but Tom saved me."

Oh bloody fucking hell! I really scored quality genes on my birthday; drunks, killers, rapists. So far I've followed the ranks right along with a body count that started with my ol' man. Drunk- wish that it were. Fuckin' mutation stopped that in its tracks. Rapist? No! Don't think so. God help me! Would I even remember? "Elizabeth," I say with a spark empathy that surprises me, "I'm sorry."

Her nod's barely perceptible before she continues, "I traveled far less than you imagine. I spent long periods at Saint Basils Rest Home."

"What?" Another unexpected gut punch! "Why?"

"Because of my illness."

Illness? Oh right. Told me somethin' 'bout that last fall. Add nutcase to the list of garbage genes. "Where you there—Saint Basils—when John Paul and I--?"

"When you were both ill?"

I nod.

"No, I was in Paris."

Elizabeth drones on but my mind's overloaded trying to sort through the garbage heap o' my past. Grudgingly, I gotta admit that she's a much of a victim as me. Hell's gonna get a lot colder before I'll admit it out loud.

A sliver of consciousness fixates on Susan. Somethin's wrong. She's been absolutely silent. I can't help notice her shift uncomfortably and glance and her watch—a lot. There's a lot of anxiety coming off her. Well, I guess so. On the whole my past's the very definition of FUBAR and there ain't no fix.

Things refocus when Elizabeth says, "….and after talking at length with Susan, I'm inclined to believe you."

"Damn glad to hear it." But I don't give a shit what you think.

Just then a sharp tap interrupts. "Mom?" Matthew sticks his head in the door.

Susie jumps up, "Matt! I'm so sorry. What do you need?"

He thrust the cell phone at her, "Dad's on the phone."

"Ugh! Tell him I'll call him back."

Matt does and then shakes his head vehemently, "He says it's important." The kid looks like he's gonna cry and mutters, "I think I messed up."

Susan huffs, "Oh, for chrissake! What now?" and flounces out. She doesn't slam the door like I expect.

What the hell did the kid mean by messed up? Oh fuck! I know exactly what he means. Must o' been on the phone with Travis all this time and told him what went down.

"What on earth?" Elizabeth breaks into my thoughts.

"Same old shit. My fucked up past just reached out and bit me in the ass," I answer and walk out.

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

Susan, perched on a brocade settee in the entry hall, is arguing with her ex. Matt's on her left, slumped against its arm, still looking like he'd bust out crying any second. Sidling up on her right, I give Matt a sympathetic glance and wrap my arm around her shoulder.

Watching me like a hawk, Matt tenses up with an aura of fear that practically colors the air blue. Kid keeps staring at my hands. Don't take telepathy to guess what's going through his head.

Allen's voice, filtered through the cell phone, whines like a mosquito. Makes me wanna reach through the phone and splat him like the insect he is. He drones, "In the space of twenty fours hours he's incited one of our sons to violence and exposed another to a psychotic episode.

"No! Allen, that's completely out of context." Her voice rings exasperation that strains my own tenuous self control. Can't stop the growl rumbling in my throat. Fuck! Ain't gonna take much for me to cut loose again.

"Out of context? I think not…" buzzes in my ear.

"You don't understand. He'd never…."

"Did he or did he not threaten a human being with his claws?"

"Yes…"

It was a defeated sounding affirmation if I ever heard one and I'm ashamed to have put her on the spot.

"…But let me ask you something?" she counters, "If you had a gun and---um—something like a laser cannon pointed at you, wouldn't you get just a little defensive?"

Atta girl! Just a minor detail they can't hurt me—much. A small part o'me can relate to 'im. Very small. I mean, what would I do if I thought my kid was in danger? Real simple. Eliminate it. He don't know I wouldn't hurt the kid and he's got no reason to take my word for it. Would_ I_ believe me? Hell no! Gotta believe he cares about his kid but I'd bet the family jewels that he's on some kind o'power trip where Susie's concerned.

"Susan, take the blinders off. Someone obviously perceived enough of a threat to resort to defensive countermeasures."

"You weren't there so I think it's best you keep speculation down to a minimum."

"Speculation or not, he's a mutant feral and, as such, exhibited fairly typical behaviors. Need I remind you of the studies? Ferals are prone to aberrant, often violent behaviors."

Right bub! Let's talk about the 'studies'. Conducted in barbaric, torturous conditions, against a participants will. I could write a novel length dissertation.

"You're over reacting." She trying hard to sound calm but the pheromones I'm getting from her don't lie.

"Am I? For God's sake Susan! You told me yourself he suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Hold the fuckin' phone! When did she discuss me with the likes of him?

"An episode triggered by past trauma, as you well know, can escalate quickly enough in a normal human…"

Sighing deeply, she suggests, "Allen, this is not the time or the place."

Allen drones on, too caught up in fifty cent psycho-babble, "…and in combination with other maladaptations…"

Maladaptations! Oh that's a good one. Why don't ya come out and say it, bub. I'm fuckin' psycho.

"Enough Allen! Matthew's sitting right beside me."

Matt's giving me that same look from before. Have I fucked up with the kid or what? Not only do I prove I'm no better than a rabid dog but I go and set his parents against each other.

"Susan, I'm warning you…"

That's it! Told the ass wipe if he messed with her he'd regret it. Grabbing for the phone, "Lemme handle this," I grumble.

She shakes her head and mouths, "No," before firing off to the 'ex, "Don't you dare threaten me."

"You're consorting with a time bomb and before it explodes I will act to protect our sons."

He's right. I am and if he don't shut his fuckin' face there ain't a plastic surgeon on the planet who'll be able to put it back together when I'm through.

"There's a travel voucher for the eight forty-seven p.m. flight to Miami waiting at Edmonton airport. I want Matthew on that plane."

"No Allen. That decision's up to Matthew."

"What assurance do I have that he'll be allowed to make it?"

"You're simply going to have to take my word for it…Allen this conversation's over. I'll be in touch when the decisions made…"

"And that will be when?"

"When it's made, Allen. Goodbye."

She clicked off the phone. "Jack-ass!" she muttered and slumped against my shoulder.

"Mom," Matt's voice broke and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry."

She slid her free arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. "Sorry for what, kiddo?"

"Opening my big mouth to Travis."

"Oh Matt. He's your brother."

"Yeah, I know. But he didn't hafta be such a jack-butt and go tell dad."

"Despite everything, your dad and I raised you to feel free to talk to us about anything. Don't you ever apologize for that."

He nodded. "Why's dad so down on Mutants?"

I wanna shout, cuz you're ol' man's got a dildo where his conscience oughtta be.

Sorrowfully she responds, "Not mutants. Just Logan."

"Why?"

"I wish I understood all his reasons," she answers with a world-weary sigh.

Good answer darlin'. That's my Susie. Grace, wisdom, even kindness for a pud-knocker who don't deserve an ounce; even if I can parse rampant anxiety oozing from her every pore.

I slid my arm around her shoulders and gave Matt's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Ya'd think I shocked him with high voltage or somethin' the way he jerked away. Fear permeated the air like vinegar. Caught a few whiffs of anger and confusion. No surprise there. "Whoa Matt! Sorry."

I wanna to reach out to him but from the anxiety pouring off him it don't take acute senses to know it be a bad idea. Sucking in a deep breath; gotta do something to find my center; diffuse my own raw edges. "You're…um scared shitless, right?"

He looks to his mom. She's squeezes his hand and gives the subtlest nod.

He can't look me in the eye. "Yessir," comes out in an adolescent squeak.

"Ya got every reason. _I'd_ be scared."

Ain't a good thing to see adults y'supposed to trust go clusterfuck on ya. Got more'n a few o'those memories I wish hadn't come back.

"I'd like to tell ya what ya saw wasn't me. But that'd be a lie. It is me. Part o'me anyway. I've always had…. a short fuse." God, this is hard! Throat's gone dry and the words just ain't there—not like they need to sound. "It ain't an excuse…. One o'my mutations kind o'adds to it ….Then shi….stuff happened…and it messed me up."

There's a long silence and I'm squirming inside. I'm dodging the guts of the matter and the kid ain't stupid. There's no way in hell to give this kid the goods and come out ok.

"Mom says ya were in combat or something and you're kinda like some dude in movie Apocolypse Now."

Geezus! I raised my brow to Susie. Did she compare me to that? No! The look on her face tells me whatever she said to Matt, this was his conclusion. Am I that bad? No fuckin' way. Who am I kiddin'? Way. Dry washing my face, I'm struggling to express the reality of it. "Matt, no doubt I've got my share o'problems." It's complicated and I'm not even sure I can explain . . "

Can't miss the you- better- explain- mister scowl on Susie's face. "Ok. Yeah! Umm, I got nailed with what ya'd call a…a…" I know I'm lookin' just shy of panicked, "…Sue, what do ya call it?"

"A violent outburst triggered by a traumatic memory, in simple terms," she explains in a professional tone.

Matt looks surprised, "Has it happened before?"

"Yes," Susie answers coolly.

"Yeah." Mine comes out in shades of shame. Shame for losing control in front of the people I love. Susie signed on with me knowing full well what the deal was. Matt didn't get the fully story and though Susie and I never discussed it, the implication was this kind o'thing was under control.

"Wow!" Confusion's written all over the kid. "What could be that bad?" he mutters and then asks directly, "You're grandfather tried to kill you? Is that what you were cussin' and tearing up that picture about?"

I nod numbly. Kid, do me a favor and let's not go to deep with this. Truthfully, I'm not sure it's safe for me to talk about it yet.

"Logan," he stammered, "did ya really mean it yesterday when ya said I could ask about anything?"

"Yeah."

"What… what did you mean when you yelled at mom about her ol' man…and your claws?"

Talk about your loaded questions! I can hear the blood rushin' in my head and my gut just knotted and turned itself inside out. Susie's feeling it too. She squirms on the settee. Her anxiety's just crossed the threshold. She's afraid, pissed and in pain. If she had Storms powers I'd be a smoldering pile o'shit at this very moment.

Whoa! Back up. Pain? Not the feelin's kind but physical. "Sue, you ok?"

Don't get a chance to deal with it. Voices just outside the front door are about to interrupt. Sounds like sis, Laser face and somebody else, whose voice I don't recognize.

It's obvious Susie hears 'em too. "My back's bothering me," she answers fast and puts up an everything's just peachy façade.

Fuck peachy façade. The kid needs straight answers and the wife needs rest—now. "C'mon," I say just as the door swings open. Scott and Julia are chatting it up to some old coot sporting a walking cane.

Talk about your uncomfortable silences. Laser face and sis freeze in their tracks. She looks like she smells something bad and Summers' has got that holier-than-thou thing going. Makes me wanna pound his pretty mug to pulp.

Composing herself, Julia exclaims, "Susan, Matt, excuse us."

Equally effusive, Susie replies, "No, no. We were…just headed upstairs."

"Oh, ok."

The old coot, removing his fancy tweed overcoat and scarf, breaks in with, "Ah, Susan! This is the lovely lady Liz has been singing praise over."

Aw now, what the fuck is this? Ain't the time for formal intros. Guess my vote don't count 'cus Julia jumps right in. "Yes, Robbie. This is Doctor Susan Harris-Logan and her son Matthew."

Can't miss I've been left out o'the equation. But there goes my wife, trooper that she is! Extending her pretty little hand, all grace and charm, "Thank you. To whom do I have the pleasure?"

Julia, acting every bit like our mother, declares, "The Honorable Robert Eastham."

Hizzoner clears his throat, "Please Julia." He smiles at Susie, "I'm known as Robbie around here," and kisses her hand.

If the old lech don't let go o'my woman's hand he's gonna lose his.

"Pleased to meet you," she declares, pulling her hand from his, "and this is my husband…"

Oh Susie babe, ain't feelin' sociable! Fuck!

"…Logan."

The geezer extends his hand but I can't do anything but nod.

Pulling back, he ain't offended, "Yes, it certainly is. It's been a very long time, young man."

Who the hell is this guy? "'Scuze me?" I suck in a breath and catch his scent; vaguely familiar but I can't place him. "Listen bub, love to shoot the shit with ya but um, I'm kinda in the middle o'somethin'." I glance at Susie and Matt, and rude or not I command, "Let's go," pointing a thumb upstairs.

Ascending the stairs, I glance over my shoulder. Laser boy looks like somebody stuck a ski pole up is ass and if sis don't close her mouth she's gonna swallow a fly. What's it with the geezer? He don't seem phased. Can't help thinkin' he's got somethin' on me. Goddamn my memory.


	36. Chapter 36

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

"Miss," an impossibly youthful waiter interrupts my repose, "the gentleman at the bar sends this with his compliments."

Casually as possible I survey the panorama before me. From this lush terrace a cool tropical oasis sparkles at my feet. Cabanas in brilliant hues dot the pristine white sands of Saint Martaan rimming the dazzling turquoise Caribbean Sea. Just a few yards away, in a swimming pool designed to mimic the sea, that teenaged child of mine splashes and cat calls loudly to her friend.

I can't help giggling. "Thank you," I reply refusing to cast my eyes in the direction pointed out by the waiter. Who would send me a tropical cocktail? Almost fifty, overdue to color my gray with a teenaged daughter only yards away. Probably some crotchety old fart that left his glasses in his room. Titillated, I finally cast a glance at my benefactor.

"Oh! Oh my gosh." Directing the waiter, "Please invite the gentleman to join me," I'm relieved it's not a crotchety old fart but thoroughly mystified by this man's unexpected appearance.

Grayer and a bit heavier than the last time I saw my former colleague, Stanislaw Ruchinsky strolls the distance between tiki bar and wicker settee. "Marla Jennings! I saw you sitting there and I said to myself I know that lady…."

"Stan. How on earth? This is such a surprise."

"Indeed it is." Casually gesturing to a chair, "May I?"

"Certainly."

Simultaneously, we ask, "So, what brings you here?"

Pretending to shiver, "Escaping the gray uglies of winter," I reply. "And you?"

"A little business, a little pleasure," he replies with a casual wave.

I laugh, "Well at least I can boast this is purely holiday for me. Didn't even bring a laptop."

At that moment, two dripping wet girls saunter tableside. "Mom," Wendy gushes breathlessly, "mind if Sara and me take the golf cart and go shopping?"

"Wendy Leigh!" I admonish, "Where are your manners?"

"Oops! Sorry" She blushes and looks at my guest, "Excuse us…"

Ruchinsky nods then averts his eyes.

"Can we mother? Please."

Ah yes; the contrite, beseeching tone of a teenager in the throes of a shopping urge! With girls my daughters' age there are two hormone surges; one reserved for boys and the other to spend copious amounts of parental money on fluff. "May we mother," I correct. "Yes you may; in about half an hour. Get changed ladies and I'll be along in a bit."

It's painfully clear they'd not planned on me being along from the horrified looks on their faces. Too bad! After that close call back in New York, I'm not letting Wendy out of my sight. "Go on," I shoo them. "I won't be standing around waiting for you if you're still fiddling with your hair or something."

"My, time flies," Stan says as the girls dance from terrace. "Fifteen years, isn't it?"

Something in his voice sets up a twinge in my breast, "What about it?"

"It's been that long since you left Replications, hasn't it?"

The mention of Replications chills me despite the tropical warmth. "Yes. I suppose it has." My voice sounds more nervous than I want. "I swear, the world gets smaller as the years fly by, don't you think?"

"Yes. It's amazing how that happens? It's ironic in a way. Luc and I were just talking about that a few days ago..." As he continues, the casual look on his face becomes serious, "You remember Lucien Diebel, don't you?"

My heart skips a beat. Something tells me this encounter is not happenstance.

"…How well you've managed in fifteen years. We're both quite pleased. Who knew six forty two, a throw away, would have turned out so lovely and _talented_. You should be very proud."

Suddenly the blood rushes to my feet and I'm afraid I'm going to be violently ill.

"There, there doctor Jennings. Surely you don't believe we weren't aware?"

"What…what do you want?" I stammer.

"Our property," he says coldly.

Your property? Suddenly my protective maternal instincts are aroused. The property he's referring to is a living, breathing, beautiful child. "Excuse me. If embryo six forty two indeed was a throw away, why the interest now?"

"Don't be coy, Marla. We know that you and a few other misguided women rescued embryos. Discards or not, they're assets and it's bad business not to keep track of assets. Even the mafia keeps track of its trash."

"As it turns out, six…"

Her name is,…" Biting my tongue to silence myself, I know he's done his homework but I'm not going to hand anything to him.

"Yes, Wendy. We know her name. Nevertheless, several like her exist. We've already brought in three, though they're average."

Oh Lord. Picturing the faces of a few former colleagues, I feel frigid dread grip my innards. Though our reasons differed, we all knew we'd crossed into deadly territory when we implanted those embryos into our wombs.

"With training they should be useful," Ruchinsky assures. "But Wendy!" he says gleefully, "Now there's astounding potential."

"There's nothing my daughter has that's of any use to you." I spit out the lie with all the verve of a mother cobra.

Ruchinsky's laugh is evil, "Oh come now. Telekinesis. Energy barriers. We know all about it."

God help me! The carefully crafted life I've made for my child is unraveling as I speak to this Satan-incarnate. How could I be so naïve? Believing I could get away with a precious belonging of the great and powerful Luc Diebel. "But, but--- she's not suited. She's gentle. She's just a child," I counter.

"We have an amazing arsenal of tools to overcome any defects."

"You're ---a monster."

His laugh is cruel, sickening, "Nevertheless, the time has come. Six forty two is ripe for assimilation."

I can't shrink fast enough as he reaches to clasp my shoulder. "Don't touch me," I hiss.

His voice is cold and exacting, "It's been a lovely chat. Someone will be in touch" His mouth curves into a sinister smile, "Enjoy the cocktail," as he strolls casually away.

Furious beyond retort, I hurl the drink with all my strength, lambasting him squarely between the shoulders. Gasping in pain, he straightens and disappears from sight.

Momentarily sickened with fright, I feel paralyzed. Dear god, dear god. What do I do? What can I do? There's no standing against the Company; at least not someone like me. It takes someone powerful; someone who's stood up and won.

Wendy! She's virtually alone in the villa. I know Ruchinsky and company rarely act alone. Jumping to my feet I race to my daughter. Before I make it to the girls, who were blessedly oblivious and safe, I have a plan. The only man; Mutant I know who's stood up to them and won; who could possibly help, is her father.

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE

"Ok, kiddo," I say flopping onto the couch in our suite, "to answer your question; I was pissed off and I lost it."

"Yes sir, I kinda got that part." Matt settles cross legged on the floor, "I think I'd piss my pants if somebody tried to kill me."

He goes quiet. Fear's abating, replaced by equal measures of confusion and curiosity. "What I don't get is the part about mom's father." Eyeing me then his mom, he dumps a bombshell, "What's he got to do with anything?"

Glancing at Susie next to me on the couch, her pinched features tell there's no more stalling. But how do I strip it down? How do I talk about shit I can't think about without reverting to a psychotic animal?

Suckin' in a breath, rakin' my scalp, flexin' and rollin' my shoulders, I'm looking for a beginning. No! Fuckin' coward that I really am, it's an out I'm lookin' for. Exhaling through pursed lips, it's time to jump in, "Your grandfather. . .did you know him?"

Puzzled, Matt glances at Sue, "I don't remember… don't think so."

"You couldn't have," she replies before revealing, "The last time he saw you was at your christening. You were only two months old."

The kid seems relieved and nods.

Ok. Good deal. No baggage to repack. "Your grandfather n'me was assigned to the same unit for a couple o'years in the early eighties. Part of the program involved altering mutants. That's how I got the metal on my bones—and the claws." Phew! Came out better'n I thought.

"My grandfather did that?"

"Yeah." Stryker's ugly mug flashes in my minds eye. Rage bubbles in the cauldron of my soul. Keep control, Wolverine. My tone's sharp as the claws lurking beneath my flesh, "He was part of a team."

"Why?"

Jesus Christ! Why? Been askin' that for better'n twenty years. Because they were tyrannical, sadistic motherfuckers and they could. "They wanted to form an elite squad to combat mutant terrorists." Ain't a lie but sure leaves out a lot'o shit. "You know, guys like Magneto."

"Whoa! No shi—no joke?"

Gotta love that in the kid; truly can find right in damn near any shit slung his way.

"Did my granddad—was he like a mutant too?'

"No," Susan interjects.

Matt genuinely intrigued, "So you and my granddad really worked together. What kinda stuff did you do?"

Can't stifle a hard-bitten chuckle, "Hey kid, if I told ya, I'd hafta kill ya." What a fuckin' cliché'! But it's the truth in more ways'n one.

He laughs, "Right! Oh come on. They only say that stuff in the movies."

Snorting, I reply, "Nope. Most of it's still classified."

Matt silently digests everything, "So, you were like a spy?"

"You could definitely say that." And assassin—and let's kick it up a notch maybe; to say, mass murderer!

"Who'd ya spy on?"

"Kid, I told ya I can't—"

"Matt!" Sue interjects sternly.

"Yes'm. Sorry Logan. It's like really cool to know somebody that was an actual spy or something."

Rancor spews out, "There is _nothing_ cool about it!" Damn it to hell. It ain't nothing like the movies. "Do you know what a spy really is?"

The kid gives half a nod then screws up his face, embarrassed and shakes his head.

"A spy's nothing better than a liar, a cheat and a thief. They just get paid to do it."

"Oh," he replies. The kids jittery again. Can't blame him with the way I jumped down his throat.

Curiosity prevails, "Can I ask ya something else?"

"Go for it."

"How'd they do it?"

"Do what?'

"The stuff to your bones?"

Fuck! Don't know if I can go here and keep it cool. It's easier if I pace; bleeds off nervous energy. No it don't. Just thinkin' about it's like main linin' pure adrenalin. Sweat collects on my brow. My heart's a jackhammer. They burn and habitually I flex and massage steely blue knuckles. I'm on the brink. My mind screams; Susie, help me out but the words stick in my craw.

She does, "You know how Bobeshi had her hip replaced? Like that, sort of; but all over."

Thank you, thank you darlin'! I'm owin' ya big time for that save. Nodding agreement, "Yeah," comes out in a rush of air, "that's close enough."

With no frame of reference to even question that it wasn't anything like a joint replacement, the kid seems good with that answer. I'm happy to leave it at that.

"Then why'd ya yell at mom?"

Shit! Kid's tenacious as a pit bull jawin' a bone. "Like I said, I was pissed and I shot my mouth off when I shouldn'a.. The kid ain't buying it. Can see it on his face and smell the skepticism. "Listen Matt; I uh, went through a rough patch 'bout twenty years ago. Same time I got the metal on my bones. Anyway…I lost my memory."

"No way! All of it? How?"

Oh fuck! I just made a tactical error. Squeezing my forehead between thumb and index finger, I think I've got an actual headache coming on! Not unheard of but rarer than a strand of hair on Charles' head.

"Pretty much," I reply. The how of it's in the same nightmarish realm as my bones. The kid doesn't need to hear the down and dirty.

"Some it's come back on its own; a lot with help from your mom and Professor Xavier. But today; seein' the portrait of my grandfather brought one back; a bad one. Plain and simple, it freaked me out…."

My gaze shifts to my wife. I hope she can see my remorse, "…and I took it out on your mom." Her tender smile portends hope that I'm at least partly forgiven.

"When they come back; you're memories, does it always-- is it always like that?"

"No. Not always. Depends on the memory."

Susie chimes in, "Remember when you and Logan were goofing off about geeky Halloween costumes?

"Oh yeah and he got out that picture from when he was a little kid?"

"Exactly. You helped trigger a good memory. But yes, Matt, when it's a bad memory it can be very traumatic."

"Mom, has Logan every freaked out in front of you like this before?"

"No. Not like this."

Only by dumb luck that I ain't. "Matt, I usually get nightmares."

She immediately adds, "And when he gets them, which doesn't happen too often, I just give him space and life goes on."

Right darlin', life goes on. No big deal. I'll remind ya o'that next time ya bitch me out for ruining those fuckin' four hundred dollars sheets ya insist on. Ah, shuddup stupid! She's handed ya more get out o'jail free cards in the last few minutes than you'll ever repay.

"How did you loose your memory?"

Fuck! It's time the kid found another ass to chew on. I've had it and I'm out o'clever obfuscations. "Matt! It's complicat—"

"Logan," Susan interrupts calmly, "it's ok. Tell him."

Scowling, wondering if she's demented; I just turned myself inside out. Whitewashed somethin' I didn't think could be; put her on the spot with her own kid and she wants me to do what?

"Logan, we've both had to come to terms with a terrible common legacy. The repercussions are probably going to be with us forever and I see what keeping secrets and denial has done to you; to your family. I won't allow the same pattern to continue with us. Matt deserves the truth."

Plunking down in the chair, dumbstruck; ain't getting a headache; got a skull splitter. The truth! Whose truth? Yours? Right darlin'. Explain dear ol' Uncle Jason. Explain who masterminded the global brain freeze last year.

Mine, eh? Sure. I'll tell him how they boiled my innards with molten metal; mind fucked me with drugs and telepaths and shock therapy. Do ya really want me to blow the lid off the kids' innocence like this? Well guess what? I fuckin' can't do it. I won't do it. All I can do his shake my head.

The tension's so thick Matt would have to be retarded not to feel it. Neither Susan nor I miss his fidgeting.

"Logan? May I?" Her tone's deferential

Words fail and I nod solemnly.

Leaning forward, commanding Matt's attention, she's all business, "Logan's memories were removed from his mind.

"Wha—?" the boy's jaw drops to his lap.

"Just listen, son. Once I'm through explaining, the subject's going to be closed. Do you understand and accept that?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She looks at me and exhorts, "Logan, feel free to jump in or correct me if I get something wrong."

"Yes ma'am," slips out and I ain't being smart assed.

"A team of Canadian and American militarists and scientists established a task force; just as Logan said earlier, to combat terrorism, specifically mutant related terrorism."

She looks at me. So far, so good and I nod. Knock y'self out, baby doll.

"Along the way, what had been a legitimate and beneficial endeavor became corrupt. Logan had the misfortune of becoming involved then."

Involved? Wanna try shanghaied, darlin'?

"When he tried to disassociate himself from it, they basically held him captive."

Hunted me down like a dog. Kept me in a pen that made the Hanoi Hilton seem like a Michelin five star resort.

"They used a myriad of complex brainwashing techniques," Tears pool in her eyes, "to expunge his memory and control him."

The kids' wide eyes darted between me and his mom. "You mean like a robot or a zombie?"

"That 'd be it," I reply. But we won't mention the part about unstoppable killing machines; minor details like that, eh.

"Eventually, he escaped and it's taken him almost two decades to recover some of his memories." Pools spill down her cheeks, "He may never recover completely from the trauma."

Matt's dazed. "Mom, was your dad one of the guys who had stuff done to him or did he do the stuff to Logan?"

She had to know it was coming but Matt's question still hit her like a bayonet to the heart. "My father," her voice hitches, "was one of the masterminds behind it." Covering her face with her hands, she weeps.

That's my cue to get beside her. Pullin' her into my chest, I don't care in the least that another flannel shirt's a designated snot rag.

Matt wraps his arms around his knees and rests his chin, "Fuck!"

I haven't the heart to bust him and over sobs, I don't think Susie heard. "Matt, remember I told ya downstairs that something had messed me up?"

"Uh huh."

Comforting my saving angel, I try and explain, "Well, that's what it was and every now and then somethin' sets me off. You're mom's probably right…."

Matt's startles to the trill of his cell phone. He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Yes sir. Dunno." He glances at Susan, "Mom?"

"Yes," she sniffs.

"It's dad. He wants to know if I'll be on the flight."

"Oh bother!" She pulls from me and wipes her eyes on her sleeve; another one o'my shirts. "Tell him I don't know."

"He wants to talk to you."

I've had enough of super dick and intercept the phone. Susie looks panic stricken but I shake my head and mouth, 'trust me.'

"Allen, when _my _wife say's she doesn't know, that's just what she means. Do us all a favor and…" stick it up you're ass… "back off a while longer." Damn! I'm proud o'myself.

"Time is of the essence. If I need to change the voucher I need to know now."

"Right." Time to disconnect cuz I've just used up my last measure of diplomacy on the turd. He's right though. Gotta make some decisions. It is time to bug out. All o'us." The phone trills in my hand. Can't guess who it might be. Cradling it in my right hand, with my left fist, I slam several hundred pounds per square inch of adamantium down. The screen separates into a spider web of cracks, the key pad implodes and it falls silent.

"Logan!" Susan exclaims. There's a twinkle back in her eye and I don't miss the twitching lips.

"Oh man! My phone," Matt complains.

"Don't sweat it. I'll getcha a better one." Talkin's over. Time for action. "Matt, I want you to pack your stuff. Susie, same for you. We're going back to Westchester tonight."

"Oh, hold on a second Logan." Susie cuts in. "If that's the case, that's fine but lets put Matt on the plane to Miami. Salvage some of his holiday vacation. Please."

Ain't in the mood to negotiate and I almost say something stupid. Bottom line though; it's her kid. "'Kay." Turning attention to Matt, "Thirty minutes?"

"Uh huh."

"Git to it."

As soon as Matt's out my take control attitude vanishes and I flop down next to Susie again. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I murmur, "I am so sorry."

"Me too."

I lift her chin and bore into her blue eyes, "And so grateful."

Her brow knits with questions.

"Ya saved my ass, darlin'."

"I hope I did," she lays her head on my shoulder, "I don't think it's over though."

Feeling beat up, I lean my head back, "Me neither." We're silent. Don't know what she's thinking but I just wanna quit thinkin'. After a couple minutes, I snap, "Allright! Shall we get the hell out o'here?"

"I suppose," she sighs and hauls herself off the couch with a weary groan. "Logan it's getting late. I think I've really over done it today."

Intent on action, I'm not hearing her. "Got the airline numbers programmed in your cell?"

"Yes. Any chance we might leave first thing tomorrow?"

Grabbing her cell from her purse on the nearby table, I scroll for the number. "Darlin' I won't stay here tonight. I can't."

"How about a hotel then?"

Punching the keypad to automated prompts, I ain't listening to her. Getting to the selection I need, I'm greeted by a message that I don't wanna hear. "Son of a fuckin' bitch," I explode almost trashing her phone.

She sounds exasperated, "What's wrong now?"

"All flights are cancelled from Brunswick, Maine to Charlotte, North Carolina. Fuckin' snowstorm's got the east coast shut down."

"Lovely. What now?"

"Guess hotel's it."

"Guess it is. Gimme a hand, Bright Eyes."

She does sound exhausted. Her scent's tinged with pain again. "You know," she says stuffing clothes into her rolling case, "if the storm's that severe, it may be a few days before we can actually get back. Have you thought of that?"

Fuck! Yeah, I thought about it. "Can ya handle putting some distance between us and hell and take it from there?" I ask while gathering stuff from the bathroom.

"Whatever you say."

"Whoa! Wait a sec. Just might get us out o'here after all." Grabbing her cell and punching numbers I hear a crisp 'good-evening' before the ring tone.

"One might accuse you of developing psychic powers. Logan."

"Whatcha doin' Charles? Sittin' on the damn thing?"

"Logan!" Susie whispers, "You're not."

Askin' Charles? Ya betcha sweet buns I am. Nodding, I shush her with a look.

"Hah!" Charles quips. "Not quite. Coincidentally however, I had just rung _you." _Abruptly, his tone lowers, "I fear we have a situation developing."

A situation? Timing's not the greatest but damn I could use an approved outlet to vent. Crack a few skulls, shish-kebab a few villains all in the name of savin' the planet! Yeah baby! "What's up?"

Susie casts a quick, curious glance at me.

"It's rather delicate."

Spit it out Chuck. "Ok."

"A few hours ago I received a rather mysterious call from Doctor Jennings asking for you."

For me! What the fuck? "And?"

"Of course I informed her you weren't available and inquired if I might be of assistance."

"Will ya get the point!" I grumble. Susie's studying me real close now.

Charles replies, "She declined but asked that I have you contact her immediately."

"Didn't say what she wanted?" Probably wants to know my whereabouts to slap that restraining order on my ass. Sue me for child support? That'd be rich.

"She! Who's she?" Susie says quietly.

Don't need an ex- skrumpy complicatin' anything else today so I shake my head and turn away. Ah! Feel the love; stabbin' me right between the shoulders.

"No. But something didn't seem quite right, therefore I took the liberty to track her with Cerebro."

"Charles, what the hell ya gettin' at?"

"Details are sketchy at the moment, Logan. Did you know Doctor Jennings is able to block telepaths?"

"Uh! Not something I remember but I'll take your word for it."

"Perusing what I could, I believe they're in significant danger and felt compelled to send a team to extract them. For obvious reasons, I prefer not to divulge the location."

"Just what kind o'danger we talkin' 'bout?" Got Susie's attention again.

"The kind of danger that follows Stanislaw Ruchinsky and Company."

"You are shittin' me!"

"Logan, what's going on?" She ain't quiet now.

"Ahem!" Charles responds. "Kindly brief Susan fully when we're through."

"No problem." Like I'll stand a chance in hell of not. "Ya want us back?"

"Not for the time being. I'll need to speak with Doctor Jennings. Once I understand the full nature of things, I'll contact you and Scott. Kindly activate your comm. unit and have him do likewise."

"Roger that, Charles."

"By the way Logan, what were you calling about?"

"Aarrhh!" comes out as a snort. "Was gonna ask if Storm could fly in and pick Susie and me up."

"Ah. I see."

"Yeah. Well, it's a moot point now. If somethin's brewing got no right using the Blackbird for personal business."

"Logan, if there's a need, personal or otherwise, I'll be glad to arrange something as soon as I know what we're dealing with."

"Nah! From what I hear the weather's bad. No point in riskin' anything. I'll handle it."

"As you wish. I'll be in touch."

Susie jumps on with both feet, "What was that all about?"

"Don't know yet."

"Don't gimme that, James Andrew! From the look on your face alone, it's serious."

"Maybe."

"Dammit Logan! You said someone's in danger? Tell me what's going on."

"Susan, Charles is sending the Blackbird to extract two mutants from some kind o'shit. That's all I got right now."

"Right. And?"

"That's about it."

Can see the wheels turning in her mind and she's got a sour look on her face to match. "You said she. Oh! No freaking way. She? She's Marla and Wendy."

"Yeah."

"Marla and Wendy are in some sort of danger? Does Charles think it might be related to the kidnapping attempt?"

"Babe, I don't know. Charles didn't say. All he's got are impressions from Cerebro…"

"Must be some impressions to send an extraction team in the weather they're having back home."

"You can say that. Susan, listen to me. As soon as Charles knows more he's going to contact us. Best thing for right now is to finish packin' up and head on out."

"Don't you think we should stay put? It'll be a lot more time consuming to rendezvous with Scott and then us at different locations."

I hate it when she right. Right or wrong, still ain't staying here tonight. Guess we'll stay in closer proximity 'til I hear from the boss. "Trust me, babe. It'll be ok."

"All right, I guess. Honestly Logan, I know….Uh!" she whimpers and clutches her side.

"Darlin'?"

Intense pain and fear saturate my senses. Before I can get to her, she cries out. "Logan!" and collapses into herself.

"Sue!" She's putty and I scoop her into my arms. Head lolling against my chest, eyelids flickering; an eerie, breathy moan escapes her lips coagulating my blood.

"Oh my god!" She's out cold. There are racehorses galloping in my chest. "Baby! Susan!" Feels like sand's being poured down my throat. What to do? Gotta get help.

Cradling her wilted body close, I sprint for the stairs. Bounding down two, three steps at a time, I'm raving, "Somebody! Anybody!"

"Mom!" Matt emerges from his room and thunders down the steps right behind. His voice cracks, "Mommy!" Scared pissless, just like me, he interrogates, "Logan what happened? What did you do to my mom?"

Do to your mom? That hurts. No that fuckin' infuriates me. I'd never hurt her. "Nothin'" I snarl and immediately regret it but fear's clouding reason.

Instinct's ramped into hyper drive. Raging in its dungeon, beast and man engage in psychic battle. Primitive urges versus reason creates a schism.

Protect my mate; the common thread shared by man and creature unifies us. But never fully subjugated, the animal re-asserts itself with a primal, anguished roar that echoes throughout the tranquil halls, "He-l-l-p m-e-e!"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Seventy  
**

Two o'clock in the morning; the house still blazing with light and I'm parked at the end of the drive trying to screw up the courage to go in. Wouldn't, except for Matthew but with Susie laid up in the hospital for a day or two, I'm all he's got.

Brrrrr! Cold chills race up my backbone, raising goose bumps. Taking a deep drag from my cigar doesn't help. Might be 'cuz the temperature gauge on the dashboard says minus eight degrees and I'm wearing borrowed hospital scrubs. Jeans, jacket, shirt; all got trashed when Susie started puking on the race to the hospital.

I owe Scott a debt for his cool head and lead foot getting us there as fast as he did. Make that a double debt cuz he and Julia stayed and kept Matthew from freaking out.

Christ! The whole thing scared the shit out o'me. The love of my life's screaming in pain, sick as a dog and _I_ can't do anything except take her to a hospital.

Right! Hospitals with their macabre gizmos and contraptions, stench and noise; takes me right back to Stryker's lab. For Susie's sake, I kept myself together. Didn't threaten anybody, smash anything or cuss anybody out—much.

It's crazy. No, I am. Jeannie was a doctor and now I'm married to one. A shrink would have a field day analyzing that.

From the left, a blue beam splits the night. It's the groundskeeper motioning me to roll down the window. Too fuckin' tired to jerk his chain, I comply.

"They're all a-waitin' inside," his breath forms a cloud of steam in the frigid air. "We've all been rightly worried about the little mama, eh."

After our last encounter, I'm amazed by his kindness. "Thanks," my appreciation's genuine. "She's gonna be ok."

"Good to hear. Drive on up and I'll garage the car. Looks like you could use a stiff drink and some sleep, eh?"

Drink's a definite. Sleep? With all that's gone down t'day? Primed for nightmares, I won't chance it.

Trudging up the steps, the front door swings open just as I reach for the handle. "Mister Logan," Phillip's spot on, as usual. "Good that you've returned."

Doubt he's really happy I'm back but at least he ain't pointing a gun in my face. Pretty good bet that my _buddy_ the groundskeeper was scoping me out and reporting back.

"I trust Doctor Harris is recovering?"

I sense his concern for Susie's genuine. "She's on the mend," I answer instead of my usual phlegmatic grunt.

"You'll find everyone in the drawing room, sir."

There are a grand total of four rooms in this house that have more good than bad memories; my old bedroom, the solarium, kitchen and here; the drawing room. Leaning against the doorframe, silently surveying, little seems changed. Polished wood, greenery, underlying smoke from the fireplace, the redolence of living tickle my olfactory nerve; and oh yeah, somebody farted not too long ago. The old Steinway dominates the rounded turret bay, still wearing the scars from the Christmas Tree JP and I knocked into it. Funny! The tree standing now looks a lot smaller.

Gathered around the worn gaming table, Matt, Scott and Julia play a subdued card game. Beneath their feet, marring the rug, is that old ink stain; the result of a science project gone awry. Wonder if Elizabeth's ever given up pointing it out and carping to anyone who'd listen how worthless her youngest offspring was over that blunder?

The Empress, herself seems to be napping on the couch by the garland and ribbon festooned fireplace. Damn! The scorch marks are still on the mantle. Discovered the hard way it ain't a good idea to build a bonfire in a fireplace. I'll state unequivocally the ass whuppin' dished out for that disaster was richly earned.

The old coot's still here, sitting next to my mother, reading a book. What the fuck is so familiar about him?

A floor board creaks under my boot. "Logan!" Matt exclaims. "How's mom?"

Scott and Julia stare expectantly. Old coot peers over his bifocals.

"Came through the operation fine, kiddo," I reply with a restrained grin.

"Thank heaven," Elizabeth yawns, stands and draws her sweater tightly around herself. "And my grand children?"

My attitude turns surly. "Ever'body's fine," my reply's brusque, recalling the callous accusation she made when Susie first got sick; _Reckless cad! See what you're brutish behavior's caused. _On the defensive, I add, "And the doc's say it was a cyst on her ovary; not anything anybody could o'predicted or caused." Blazing eyes temp her to dispute me.

"Easy Logan," Scott interposes.

Catching my fuck-off- and-die glare, the Boy Scout backs down.

"Yes. Scott so kindly told us when they got back," Elizabeth snaps, undaunted. What is it with her? Can't intimidate her for shit. I'm either losin' my touch or she's stupid.

Her mood abruptly softens, "And you son? You must be exhausted."

Pouring a scotch, I sense honest concern. She's right though; I'm fried. Falling onto the opposite couch, "Yeah! been a long day." That's all the assent I'll offer.

Heaving a weary sigh, the old coot's scent invades my sinuses. Giving him the once over, I'm curious, "I know you but I don't know why?"

"Yes, you do." Smiling affably, offering his hand, "Robert Eastham, at your service."

A grunt's all he gets out o'me.

He clears his throat, "Ahem!" Soldiering past my snub, "Introductions this afternoon were less than ideal."

"Ya think?" I blast. "Look bub; Eastham, ain't in the mood for games. Who the he---"

"James!" Elizabeth reprimands, tossing a blue velvet cushion. "Show some respect for the man who kept you from a life as a convicted criminal."

Startled, I dodge and deflect it to the floor. What the fuck? Almost spilled my libation. Swift one, mother dearest. Do you not see my step kid hanging onto every nuance? Seems to me he's witnessed more than enough garbage today. "Hang on a sec," I demand. Swallowing back the drink, "Matt, time for you to pack it in. Visiting hours start at nine and we're gonna be there."

"Okay," he's drawls, disappointed to be dismissed. "Did they say how long mom's gotta stay?"

I know he's curious and stalling, so I cut him slack, "Nah. Her doc said they'd know tomorrow. Head on upstairs now."

Dragging sneakers across rich, maple wood floor with a do- I- hafta frown, he replies, "Yes sir,"

Wise to the kid's tactics, I emphasize, "Matt, the operative word is upstairs to your room." I didn't miss him mutter, "Dammit, busted," before he bid goodnight.

Sliding his chair back, Scott stretches, "Matt's got the right idea. It's been a day." Clasping my shoulder, "Logan, we're really glad Sue and the twins are ok."

It takes effort not to balk at uninvited physical contact, "Thanks."

Julia touches my arm, joining with, "We really mean it. Sue's good people."

Yeah, and I'm just road kill the dogs dragged in, right? Shut up. They're sincere and you know it. I nod, "I owe you."

"You'd have done the same for us," Scott replies.

Wouldn't pick ya for my best friend, but yeah, if it came down to it I'd cover yer ass. Mellowed and bone weary, I nod and turn back to the geriatric set, "Ok Robert Eastham, I give. Enlighten me."

"Delighted!" He's so fucking urbane I wanna barf. "Thirty three years ago you stood in my chambers convicted of involuntary manslaughter. I gave you the choice of incarceration or military service."

Aw no fucking way! Oh yeah, fuckin' away probably is the catalyst for the deal in the first place. Tossing my head against the sofa back, a disparaging chortle escapes my throat. My mother and hizoner's been an item since—well, a helluva long time.

"So, now I guess this is the part I'm supposed to express undying gratitude."

His tone's all oatmeal and saccharine. "No, young man. This is the part whereby I express deep regret for the horrific things done to you."

"Right." Hope he chokes on my derisiveness. "And whatdaya know about it anyway?" Never mind. I'm fairly opened minded but the idea of being a topic of geriatric pillow talk—gaahh!

He's on the defensive, "However, given the circumstance at the time, it was still the optimal choice."

"How ya figure, bub?"

"If you'd gone to prison I have no doubt you'd never been released."

"Bullshit, your honor!" I spit contemptuously. "I'd have been sent up for five years max!"

"Don't be thick headed, Logan. One look at your record; those years at Fort Saskatchewan and you'd be marked. Our fair nation wasn't as open minded in those days."

"We could sit here and debate this 'til hell freezes over." He's got me on a couple o'points but no fuckin' way I'll concede. "Won't change anything and frankly, I don't give a shit."

It's back to the scotch decanter. Just about to pour, instead I take a slug right out of it. "And this is the part where I drink m'self insensate. Ain't that how ya put it, mother?"

Ice water couldn't extinguish her blistering expression, "How much time goes by and how little changes, James."

One evil eye deserves another, "And you're point is?" I snarl.

Unexpectedly, she reverses course, "Forgive me, son. There's so much I'd take back if I could. I still have such hopes to repair the damage and rebuild something between us."

Hang on! Lemme pull out the violins. "Whatever," I grumble before chugging more amber anesthetic.

Eastham takes her tenderly by the elbow, "Liz, my sweet, it's late." He looks at me and shakes his head, "The past can't be changed but you're future is as bright or as dark as you choose to make it. Goodnight, Logan."

Piss off! Save the arm chair philosophizing for somebody who gives a shit.

#

Making sure the coast is clear and filching two decanters, I make my way upstairs. Gotta check on Matt first and then I've got a date with my kind o'arm chair philosopher.

Seeing light from beneath the door, I knock and poke my head in, "Hey, it's really late. Doin' ok?"

Engrossed in a new computer game, Matt answers with a distracted, "Uh huh."

"Can I come in?"

"Yes sir."

Couldn't help track my eyes around the room with its deep green wainscoting and cream colored plaster. A three toned, Hudson Bay blanketed sleigh bed still dominates and furnishings wear the scars of it's former exuberant, juvenile inhabitant; in other words well- worn. "Wow!" I mutter.

Matt looks at me curiously, "What?"

"She didn't change a thing."

"Huh? Oh yeah. You mean your bedroom?"

"Yep."

Pointing to the wall behind me, "That really you in those pictures," he snickers.

Turning around I can't help laughing. "Yeah." Ten years worth of hocke photographs mounted around… "Whoa!" I gasp recognizing a prized relic. "See this?" Reverently caressing a battered hockey stick hung on the wall over my beat up and scratched desk, "It's signed by the greatest hockey player ever. This guy was my hero." My voice trails off, "Wanted to play just like him."

"How come ya didn't?"

Mourning stolen possibilities, I sigh, "Life kind o'got in the way."

"Part of the stuff we talked about earlier?"

"In a way, yeah." Sitting at the foot of the bed, unsure what to say makes me feel twitchier than a toddler with a butt full o'pin worms. Smoothing uncharacteristically sweaty palms on the scratchy woolen blanket, "Listen, I'm not real sure what's gonna happen over the next couple o'days. You're Christmas vacation's getting screwed so if ya want me to send ya to your dad, just say the word."

"Heck no! I'm staying right here with mom."

That was easy. Exhaling in relief, "Ok kiddo. Lights out. We gotta be at the hospital before ya know it."

#

So, two hours later with one decanter down and sloshing through the other, I've yet to turn off the incessant loop of today's events going 'round in my head.

My gut told me from the outset there's abso-fucking-lutely nothing good to be gained from being here. I'm beyond humiliation for loosing control in front of Matthew. Don't care for the shame I feel having put Susie on the spot like I did, either. Why is love so bloody hard?

And yeah, I'm down. Deep inside, there was a spark of hope that I might've grabbed the brass ring; finally forged normal family bonds. Over looked a minor detail; nothing about the Howlett's is normal or sane. I never stood a chance.

Worst of all, Susie collapsing in my arms like that raised a demon I thought finally vanquished; namely I'm the grim reaper when it comes to women I love. Wallowing briefly in the notion, a hot tear settles onto cheek stubble. I'd gladly have the metal ripped off my bones and re-bonded if it guaranteed I'd have her by my side for the rest of her life.

Eastham's got one thing right. The past is beyond control. But a promising future, mine and Susie's, doesn't include Elizabeth Deschenes Howlett. I don't care 'bout her regrets or yen to patch it up.

Draining the last bit from the decanter, I lay my head back debating the merits of another one. The room's warm, the couch is comfortable and I've got just enough buzz for neurons to defrag. Clocks all over the house chime; another hour gone.

#

A vibration in my pants pocket jets me off the couch. Muttering, "Shit!" I realize I fell asleep. It's daylight. There's the vibration again; my comm. unit. "Yo!"

"Logan." No mistaking Charles' precise diction, "Forgive the early hour."

Whiskey soaked, my voice is coarse, "No problem. What's the score?"

"Is something amiss?"

Coughing to clear my pipes, "Nah! Long night, long story."

"Hmm!"

"Don't sweat it, ok."

"Very well. I'll get to the point. Doctor Jennings and her daughter are safe and sound."

"Ok. What's the story?"

"It appears that the Replications division of Weapon X is active and possibly thriving."

His disclosure hits like a grenade. Bye-bye buzz. "What's that got to do with them?"

"Far more than I can go into under these circumstances."

"Come on Charles!" Perturbed, I pace, "Why the fuck did ya call if ya ain't got nothing to say."

He's resolute, "There's plenty to say but Doctor Jennings has requested she speak with you directly."

"Not good enough," I bark.

After lengthy pause, he sounds conciliatory, "Very well. Simply put without breaking trust with Doctor Jennings…"

"Fuck her!" Rage seeps into my voice and I slam an open palm into a doorframe. "If it's got anything t'do with Weapon X…"

His tone's calm, "Logan, hear me out!" a purposeful counter response to mine. "It seems Ruchinsky approached her while on holiday informing her that it is time to assimilate Wendy into what she described as the Company."

"Aw shit!" So Ruchinsky's a recruiter now! Assholes must be slippin' cuz in my day there'd be no chance of a potential asset getting past. Past me, anyway. "Charles, this don't smell right. The Company's not this sloppy."

"Indeed. I've considered the possibility of a trap. Scanning Doctor Jennings' mind, if there is a trap; she's not part of it. Howev--"

Fiddling with a window drape, "Don't under estimate 'em."

"I don't. However, I've not dismissed the possibility she may be an unwitting participant."

"Lemme get this straight. You got her and the kid safe and sound _on campus?_"

"Of course…"

Gesturing with both hands, the phone cradled between jaw and shoulder, "Are you fuckin' nuts!" I rant.

"…With full security protocols activated."

"No ya don't." My lips curl into a humorless smirk, "You're number one and number two boys ain't there."

"Other Team members are thoroughly cross- trained. You supervised that yourself."

"If the Company's after either one, they ain't gonna be easy to stop." No sneer plays on my face now; just dead eyed seriousness.

"What are you saying, Logan?"

I won't veil knife's edge criticism from my voice, "I'm saying you're putting the entire school at excessive risk."

"Providing shelter to at risk mutants is what we do. Would you have me turn them away?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

Short of knocking him upside it, there's no changing bare head's mind. "Alright, what's the deal with Marla wantin' to talk to me directly?"

"Precisely that."

Pulling the phone from my ear, I stare incredulously; return it to my ear and grumble, "So you ain't sayin'?"

"Correct."

"Charles, answer this." Flopping down on the couch, my voice projects apprehension, "Does she know I'm her father?"

"As of this moment she hasn't been told and I can safely say that's part of what her mother wishes to discuss." There's no condescension in his paternalistic tone.

Sighing with frustration and fatigue, "You ain't given me squat more information than when ya first called; ya know that?"

"I'm sorry, Logan. The issues are extremely complicated and delicate. By the way, the jet is free. Do you still wish to return?"

"Yeah, but unless it's crucial I'm stuck."

"How so?"

"Susie's havin' a little problem and umm—well she's in the hospital."

"Good heavens! The twins?"

"No. Cyst on her ovary. Everything's under control but I think she's gonna need a day or two before her doc'll let her do anything. Least that's the impression I'm under."

"Understood. Concentrate on your wife. We'll manage."

"Thanks. Later."

#

Gotta stretch out the kinks. "Graarrggrrhhh!" Bobbling my neck right, then left, adamantium vertebrae sound like an amplified bowl of crispy rice cereal. Hell's afire! The Company's got a hard on for Wendy. What the fuck's that about?

Picking out a volume from the bookshelf, I thumb absently through it. Doing the math here, a lot don't add up but there's a key element I can't remember to save my ass and a not so niggling sense I better figure it out—fast.

With no Danger Room handy my preferred method of working it through is severely curbed. But recalling an indoor pool and spacious surrounding deck, I think I've got the ticket.

Padding through the silent house, I make my way to the rear wing and discover it's still there though seems modernized since I last saw it. Yanking off my boots and stripping down to jeans, I'm ready for a little civilized stress de-escalation.

Ram rod straight, I stand. Deep breathe in through my nose; slow exhale between lightly pursed lips; close my eyes. Chanting silently, "Clear my mind. Bring forth peace. Focus inner strength. Seek perfection."

Bowing deeply, as customary, "Yoi," echoes off the glass enclosure.

Lunging so the right leg's straight behind, left legs bent at the knee, my right arm projects forward parallel with my knee while the left arm angles back and bends at the elbow. In a fluid motion, hips rotate, right leg trades with left for stance and my left fist rams forward. Taking a controlled breath, I pivot one hundred and eighty degrees and mirror the lunge, leg and arm maneuvers.

So it goes, lunging, spinning, punching and kicking my way thru progressions of physically and mentally challenging sequences. The sting of perspiration in my eyes and taste of it on my upper lip attests as much to my zeal for perfection as it does to the humidity in the pool house.

Exhaling past clenched teeth, completing the final move, I shout, "Yame!" and assume the same posture I began with.

More than halfway thru a second Kata, my body's loose and into the groove. Shame my mind's not with the program. In combat or competition, this kind o'inattention could cost me but since this ain't either, might as well go with the flow.

The flow, in this instance, is an unrelenting replay of Susie collapsing in my arms. Let it go, bub! She's fine. Ya know she is. The doc told ya. She told ya. Ya smelled it; that certain whatever it is.

"E-itt!" A roundhouse kick morphs into air born spiral. Landing in a perfect lunge helps to banish unsettling images but visualizing the crushed larynx of my latest emotional demon gratifies like nothing else.

Bugger! Now this piss-ant excuse for a mind I've got's taking me back to Stryker's lab. What the fuck? There's five of us sitting in a non-descript, chilly lounge in nothing but our skivvies.

I lose rhythm picturing fat head Creed sitting there in drawers emblazoned with The Real Home of the Whopper. Where's the Beef's more like it.

Who the hell's on my left? Kane! With enhanced prosthetics, that mother was more machine than man. Sparring, he turned me into butcher scraps a couple times.

David North--Maverick, sits to my right, thumbing through the swimsuit issue of a sports rag sheet. He's one of a half handful of men I genuinely respected and considered a true friend. Helluva a pool shark, too.

Who's the last one? Oh yeah, that big mouth, mother fucker Deadpool. What was his real name? God only knows. Never liked or trusted the poser.

Holy shit! In she walks; statuesque with curves no lab coat could conceal. Tendrils of cocoa brown hair disobey the controlling clasp of the gold barrette she wears. She's balancing a stack of specimen cups, "Ok…er gentlemen. Here's the deal," she says casting a stern eye at us under shorted degenerates.

Can't recall her exact words but I sure as hell remember our reactions. First, dead silence. Creed's the first to spout off, "Yo princess, ain't no way that puny thing's gonna hold all my jiz."

"Flea bag, we're talking quality, not quantity," Kane provokes. "Guess yer out o'the game."

Creed snarls, "Bite me!"

"Hey bitch," Deadpool adds, "no fuckin' way I'm jackin' off in a cup for nobody; not even Luc Devil-face hisself."

"Yo' 'pool!" Kane bristles, "Where ya get off talkin' to the lady like that?"

"What ya gonna do Scrap-borg?"

Grinning wickedly, Kane raises his prosthetic arm, projects and snaps a mean looking set of pinchers.

Maverick looks up from his magazine and snickers, "Kind o'tough to whank off with a nub, wouldn't ya say?"

The whole place damn near erupts into a brawl after I crack, "There's enough jerk-offs around here without me joining the club," to which Creed shoots back, "You couldn't make the club, Runt."

Marla sets the cups on a table. "_Boys!_" she emphasizes. "Sort yourselves out without too much carnage." Beating a quick retreat, she shouts over her shoulder, "You'll find appropriate magazines in the stalls should you have any difficulty."

Just as it's my turn, opportunity knocks. Sidling up intimately, I take her hand, "Darlin'?" Suggestively licking each finger, "Thought I ranked a little more up close and personal." Tasting her palm, "How about you and me…" then easing her warm, soft mitt southbound, "…go next door and discuss my sample in private?"

"Ooff!" Didn't expect an elbow in my solar plexus or her flippant, "Think again,_ bub_!"

"Haaa-aaahh!" my voice echoes in the pool house in a vain effort to refocus on my Kata. Images of the past and Charles' words repeat non stop in my cranium: Replications…, cloning…, genetic engineering…, blood…, semen…, bone marrow…, Wendy…, Ruchinsky…, assimilation.

The kid's an emerging telepath and telekinetic; a strong one at that. Didn't Susie say she seemed to have a healing factor?

More recently, that little chat Marla and I had at the ballet reverberates between my ears.

_" Lemme ask you this; what are you gonna tell her when she does ask?"_

_"The truth."_

_"And what's the truth?"_

_"You simply provided a share of the biological material needed to bring her to life"_

"Mother fuckin' sonofabitch!" A million volt revelation explodes in my brain and my head to pounds to a frenzied, adrenalin juiced heartbeat.

Pistoning fists pound out pieces of a puzzle that interlock forming an abominable prospect. Wendy ain't just adopted!

"Fuucckk!" I bellow, redoubling kicks and punches. No images of shattered sternums or pulverized faces can exorcise the repugnant thought. I feel sick to my stomach.

She's a … Images of Diebel, Stryker and Ruchinsky explode in my face before vanishing in sulphuric haze. … she's been created; engineered using me and fuck all only knows who else.

Rage escalating, my vision goes scarlet, muscles burn and claws eject. "Grraahhrrrggghh!" Clawed fists crash down, pelting my face with shards of cement. An elegantly carved bench lays split to rubble.

Sinking to the deck in lotus form, the grisly insight marinates my core with toxic effluent. It'll be over my bloated, maggot infested corpse; I vow inwardly, those bastards ever get to her!

#


	38. Chapter 38

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

Glass doors opening between the main house and here assault the senses with their screeching. In walks Eastham, dandied up in a white and red trimmed terry robe. Appraising the shattered bench and my fierce expression, "I don't believe I've ever seen you in a civil mood," he soberly declares.

In no mood for conversation, my vision remains fixed straight ahead.

He clears his throat, "Hope you don't mind. I didn't expect to find you here." Shrugging off the robe, he strolls poolside, "Daily work out, eh. Won't take long." The water hisses as he dives. A moment passes and I hear the rhythmic splash of swim strokes.

Time for me to ease out o'here. Feeling guilty over the bench, I take time to stash the remains out of the way. It's a mistake, giving Eastham another opening.

Elbows on the ledge, "Logan, your mother asked me to discuss an item of business with you," he respectfully petitions.

My back's facing him. Bet she does. After all that's gone down, I'm probably disowned—again. Maybe there's justice after all.

Eastham continues, "Might I have Phillip provide us with coffee and a bite of breakfast while we chat privately?"

Executing a one-eighty and facing him, I mimic his refined panache, "Might you just take a hike, bub? Listen up, Eastham, if the dowager queens wants t'gimme the golden boot she can fuckin'- well do it in person."

He scrambles from the pool, retrieves his robe. "First of all, you cantankerous lout, while quite possibly deserving it, she has no desire to cast you out…."

"Hey!" Gesturing thumbs up, "My stock's risin'." Mother fuckin' bastard to cantankerous lout.

"Secondly, with emotions running amok as they are, she believes it best to leave you to yourself."

Reloading her guns, no doubt. "Right."

"Finally, she's under the weather herself today."

The real distress in his voice tempers my apathy, "The cancer?"

Eastham's brow rises, "Why yes! How do you know?

"Part o'my mutation."

An officious frown settles over his craggy complexion. Betting what's next out o'his trap, I seize control, "So what's this all pressing item of business?"

Settling onto a poolside chaise, he's both informal and imperious, "The favor you asked of her a week or so ago."

"Sonovabitch!" That's what she meant by it was all arranged. Chuckling mordantly over the irony, "Looks like ya got me over a barrel—again."

Annoyed, he censures, "I don't understand how Doctor Harris tolerates your crass mannerisms. If I was her attorney I'd advise her to…"

"Well you ain't."

I can smell his regret but no apology's offered. "Indeed," he responds stiffly. "Regardless of how you choose to view things and because it means a lot to your mother, I'll legalize the union between you two."

Smacking my bent left elbow with my right fist, "Why don't you take your and my mother's good intentions and…"

Eastham raises his hand, palm toward me. Wrath sours the air. "Enough of your insolence!" he thunders.

Suddenly, I can't utter a sound! The sonovabitch paralyzed my vocal chords. Pressing my fingers to my throat, I don't feel pain. Holy shit! The best I can muster is an anemic rush of wind.

His outstretched hand quivers, "I'm sorry I have to do this."

Ya ain't seen sorry yet.

"If you'll get yourself under control, I'll state my business and trouble you no longer." Hands at his side, up and down he smoothes the nap on his robe.

Trouble me no longer? Yo bub! Ya got a serious death wish and I'm the fairy godmotherfucker who's gonna grant it. I take a menacing step towards him. Next thing I know my larynx starts doing the jitterbug.

If this weren't happenin' to me it be fuckin' hilarious. Gotta give the s.o.b. kudos for havin' the cajones to take me on. Making a cutting gesture across my throat, I hope he understands I'm standing down.

Apparently not. The fear coming off him stinks like a west Texas stockyard. Quicker than a colonoscopy patient needs the crapper, he's on his feet, but somethin's gone wrong. Next he's ass over tin cups, tangled in the lounger. Before I can react; make a grab, he and it go over the side into twelve feet of water.

He's gone too deep, too fast to simply reach down. Damn! Don't see no handy-dandy lifeguard so it looks like I'm going for a swim. With a hundred extra pounds of adamantium, I'm a lead balloon in water. In this case, it's a good thing cuz in a second I'm standing on the bottom. Chlorinated h-two-oh can't mask the funk of panic as Eastham struggles like a hooked carp. The tie of his robe's knotted fast to the lounger.

Only one thing to do. Ejecting the claws on my left hand, I hope he doesn't throw a coronary. Neat as ya need, I separate Gramps from the lounger.

Aw hello! He ain't breaking for the surface. Water pressure's effect on my senses ain't pleasant. Factor in a very real recollection of drowning and seventy two inches to the surface might well be seventy two miles. Gramps ain't no small dude and I'm a brick. Don't think Wolverine. Just do it! Grabbing him in a bear hug, pushing off the bottom with all the spring my legs'll give, he just breaks the surface and clings to the tiled edge.

Momentum's lost and I find myself back on the bottom. No siree! Water and Wolverine ain't a happy mix. Again, launching with my legs, I torpedo up, spiking the wall with my claws and split the surface sneezing from the chlorine.

Instantly, a shriek reverberates in my ears followed by a sharp whack upside the head. "Ow!" erupts as a silent rush of wind. What the fuck? Elizabeth? She hit me! My own mother split my forehead wide open with the rescue pole! Deep crimson cascades down, drips off the tip of my nose, turns pink then vanishes, diluted by water.

Didn't think the ol' gal had it in her but she's cussing up a storm in French. Eastham, still kackin' up half the pool, tries valiantly to stifle her. Before he hauls himself up the ladder, she tomahawks down with that damn rescue hook again. I grab it and we connect in a ferocious battle of ocular one-upmanship. With the meekest yank, I could pull her in. She knows it but still has the chutzpah to keep it up. "You wouldn't dare," she taunts.

My lips form, "Try me," but not so much as a squeak comes out, my pipes still gummed up with Eastham's voodoo. This is fuckin' useless. I slip under, propelling toward shallow water, out of the poles reach. I can hear Eastham half chokin' half tryin' to explain but Elizabeth ain't hearin' any of it.

Breaking surface at waist depth, I see Eastham's got her disarmed but she's still on a roll; directed at him as much as me.

With a hang-dog expression, "Liz, mon cher, veuillez être tranquille?" he beseeches.

Wind milling her arms, "I will not be quiet, Robert. He tried to kill you. I saw….."

"No, no!" Eastham countered, circling her in his arms, "He saved me from…."

Screeching, "Those claws," she's wild eyed and wrenches away. "He's out of his mind. First it was Thomas and now he's after you!"

Uh- huh! Who's out o'their mind?

Eastham raises his hand and commands, "Elizabeth, silence!"

Suddenly mommy-dearest can't utter a sound. Man o'man, the death glare she's givin' off might just melt adamantium.

Guiding her to a lounger, "Now my dearest, you will sit down, take a deep breath and listen to your son." Waving me in, "Will you please?"

I'd like to say hell no. I don't please. I'm stayin' right here. But I'm stuck gesturing to my throat.

"Ah! Mon dieu!" He raises his palm, "Me pardoner."

My voice sounds like a strangled bleat. "Nah, I'm good right here." A couple o'painful coughs side track me, "And what the fuck did ya do to me anyway?"

Tenderly he touches Elizabeth's neck and begs her forgiveness.

Apoplectic, her face looks like Easter dinner's boiled ham. She makes to slap him across the face which he blocks. "How dare you," she starts in again, voice restored.

Now this should be funny; her rippin' lover gramps a new one. But the spear she chucked, comparing what happened to Thomas and what just went down, pierces deep. She really is crazy as a loon.

"And for you," she turns her venom back on me, "you psychopathic cur, explain yourself."

"Old woman, shut yer face," I growl and her jaw makes like an open Venus Flytrap.

"Liz, please." Eastham butts in. "You've got it all wrong."

"How is it then?" she snipes in French.

"I tripped, fell in and Logan rescued me."

Oh, here we go! She ain't getting nowhere with the pissy bitch act, so here comes the waterworks. "Oh Robert! But the claws?"

"My robe tangled in the lounger. He cut me loose."

Climbing out of the pool, "I'll fucking show ya just like Thomas!" I growl damn near loosing control and ejecting my claws. "Thomas was a motherfuckin', cold blooded killer. Deserved what he got." Pointing to Eastham, "He's just an idiot. I don't kill idiots."

Blanching, she cradles her face between aged hands, "Oh, mes cieux! I've been grievously unjust. What both of you must think of me?" Switching to mommy-make-it-better mode, she reaches to stroke my forehead, "James, your head?"

Hissing, "Back off," I block unwanted contact.

She laughs, "Well, thank god, it's healed. Sweeping glances to me then back to Eastham, her mood somersaults again. "I suppose I'll leave you gents to your business then," she says blithely and strolls to the main house.

Her rapidly shifting moods turns my rage and pain to grief. Been over that cuckoo's nest a time or two. "She's still like that, eh?" I question Eastham.

"I usually manage to work around her moods," he answers, toweling off.

"Damn," I mutter, shaking the water out of my ears. Ain't sure if I empathize with him or not. Growing up around her, I didn't have much choice. Choosing to live with a shrew like her sure makes me wonder if he's got dead air between his ears.

"Before another crisis erupts, allow me to apologize again." He hands me a towel, "I don't use my, er, power indiscriminately."

Don't need nor want an act of contrition. Waxing impatient, "Ya said ya had something to important t'say."

"Yes, and I promised to be brief." Draping himself in snowy terry cloth, "Timing is critical if you wish your union with Susan to be legalized." Pounding fist into palm, "That confounded Mutant Registration Act contains a stipulation declaring mixed unions not filed by midnight of the thirsty first will not be recognized."

I cock a quizzical eyebrow and hike up my soaked and sagging jeans. Butt- crack- R- us ain't in my fashion repertoire.

"The internet grossly misrepresents the complexity of legalizing mixed unions; particularly so because you are Canadian and the good doctor is American. To accomplish this yourself, which I'm becoming more inclined to let you have at it, would take a week at the very least. Factor in the Holidays and you're looking at a solid two weeks."

Whipping a towel, the crack resonates off the glass panels, "What the fuck takes two weeks?"

"It's the interview process." Wagging a finger, "Do you have any idea how busy that lone ministry office is being the only one administering mixed unions?"

"Damn!" I shake my head, showering anything and anyone in range. "The fuckin' beauracracy." Then, raking my fingers through unruly locks, "So, you're saying I'm screwed?"

Shrinking as if I'd loosed raw sewage in his face, "Hardly," he splutters. "I can make this happen in ample time to beat the deadline."

"I'll bet ya can." And all I gotta do is bend over and spread 'em. Twisting my wedding band round my finger, "So what do I gotta do?"

"As soon as Susan is well enough, I conduct a short interview with the two of you, separately and then together. Verify your identity. Everybody signs on the dotted lines and it's done."

"Right." I glance skyward expecting the bird o'paradise to take a dump on my head any second.

A genial smile creases his mouth, "I can say a few meaningful words…"

Or not.

"….if you like or the two of you can troth your love, fidelity and what not, but that's discretionary."

"Ok. I haven't sprung this on Susie yet." Heaving a bottomless sigh, "Lemme find out when they'll let her out and we'll get it going."

Eastham nods then draws his arms across gray chest fuzz, "Don't know about you but I'm cold and hungry. This time, would you join me for coffee in the morning room?"

Flicking my watch face, "Yeah." Oh man, I sure hope to hell Rolex's are waterproof. "Guess I gotta a couple minutes."

I took time to roust Matt to the shower before tossing on dry clothes. My jeans and flannel work shirt stand in stark contrast to Eastham's natty wool slacks and crisp monogrammed shirt. So, sue me! At least the flannel's new.

Stuffing my face with bacon, maple baked beans and some kind o'blueberry crepe thing placates my snarkish 'tude. "Hey um… Eastham," Gotta lick cream cheese off my upper lip, "…pretty slick maneuvering 'round Elizabeth back there."

"Robert's fine," he says, pronouncing it as Ro-bare, "and you're welcome, Logan."

"'Kay, Ro-bare." Slurping my own hot cup o'joe, "So, how long ya been with Elizabeth?"

He snickers, "You missed," and points the fork at my mouth. "Truthfully, since about a year before John and Thomas died. But I've known your mother since I was just a clerk in my father's law firm."

White linen makes quick cleanup of my pie hole, "So you know where all the skeletons are, eh?"

"Correct."

All goes quiet save for slurps and crunches as we devour the bounty heaped on our plates. "Lemme ask ya 'bout something that's been on my mind for a while."

Mouth stuffed, Eastham nods.

"What the hell's the manslaughter thing?"

"Beg pardon," he says, sliding the plate off to the left.

"Back thirty years ago. The way I remember it, and I don't exactly remember, I thought it was just a fight."

"Yes, you were involved in a serious altercation with another young man." Meticulously, he refolds a napkin and places it atop his plate, "You nearly killed him as well as completely mangled his face with those claws of yours."

"Nearly killed?" Stabbing a fork in the air, "That don't add up to a murder rap."

He frowns, eyes level under drawn brows, "You're conviction stemmed from the fatal automobile accident you caused afterwards."

My appetite vanishes. "Shit," I mutter and let the fork clatter on the table.

Cold and authoritative, he chronicles my transgression, "Impaired far beyond legal limits with alcohol, not to mention drugs, driving at a high rate of speed, you collided head on with a woman and her three children. She died. Luckily the children survived relatively unscathed- albeit motherless."

I feel nauseated and push back from the table. "What—what happened to the kids?"

"The estate paid out a tidy sum and if memory serves me correctly, they were cared for by their father." My conscience withers under his condemning scowl.

"And the guy I mangled?"

"He disappeared. But that's not surprising since he had a long history with local authorities and the RCMP; trafficking drugs being one of many nefarious activities."

Gouging the tables' edge with my finger nails, "Cocksucker probably deserved what I ever I gave him." But bluster don't change a thing for those kids or assuage my remorse over it.

"Perhaps Logan. But your association with him didn't make it easy for me to finagle the deal I worked out for you."

Meaning I was pedalin' in the same shit. I shrug, "So why bother?"

"Beg pardon?" He slaps his forehead, "Why in God's name do you think? Ever hear of a little thing called maternal love?

"My ass, Robert!" Drumming the table top with index and middle fingers, "I'd lay odds it came down to keeping the family name unsullied. A jailbird Howlett just ain't copacetic."

Exasperated, he sighs, "You are one sorry piece of work; you know that boy?"

Ain't no boy. "Go ta hell!"

"You know something else?" he grinds between clenched teeth. "You almost make me regret trying to salvage your sorry ass."

Almost? Fuck that. Must be losing my charm. In his face drill sergeant style, "Get a clue Eastham. It's help from bastards like you that sent my body and mind; my very life on an express cruise down the River Styx."

"No," His jaw twitches and I can smell his ire. "It's help from a bastard like me that gave you a better shot than you deserved after leaving three children without a mother."

Stick it in and twist it good. He's dead right.

"Regardless of the steep dues you've paid since, the record shows those five years you served in the army under my adjudication were very productive years." Never breaking eye contact, he pushes back from the table, "If you don't believe me, if you can't remember…," his fist punctuates each word, "…I've got the damned records to prove it."

What? The revelation stuns like a thunderbolt rendering me mute. Records! A chance to get back something I thought lost forever?

"If you'd like a copy, I'll have my secretary fax them before the days end. Study them. If you still believe I bear responsibility for the horrors you've experienced, then so be it. You're beyond redemption…" To emphasize his sentiments he rubs his palms together, "And I wash my hands of you."

My mouth's gone dry. Breakfast feels like boiled stones in my belly. Suck up the pride ya stupid cannuck. "Yeah. I wanna see it."

**Dislclaimer: Marvel's got the lock on Logan. I'm not making a penny. But I am having a blast!**

**Author's Note: Many thanks to Rhiannon UK, my best beta and cheerleader. With equal measures of pats on the head and kicks to my butt, she's gets the credit or blame for bringing out my best. "Oh, my aching pick one, depending head-backside!" **


	39. Chapter 39

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO

Cruising down the freeway, my hands wet on the steering wheel, a bit Thoreau wrote, _Fears are as good a prophet as hopes_, replays in my thoughts. Pretty much sums up how I feel at the prospect of unearthing another part of my past. It's a tug of war between common sense and curiosity. If history provides any lesson, it might be pay attention to common sense.

"Hey Logan," Matt derails my train of thought. "Can I ask ya something?"

"Sure."

"Remember last night when your mom said Mister Eastham got you out of jail?"

My grip on the wheel tightens. Kid's a damn sponge, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I drove drunk and killed somebody." No way in hell I'm going into the sordid details even if I could fuckin' remember.

"Whoa!" He's silent for a couple miles but I sense him casting me sly, sideways glances. "How? I mean didn't you say stuff like that didn't bother you."

"Stuff like what?"

"Drugs and booze. I heard mom say once aspirin didn't do squat for you."

This kid don't miss a damn thing. "Dunno kid. Happened a long time ago."

More reflective silence and then the kid mutters, "Guess that's what dad meant when he said you're a criminal."

I shrug. Doubt that's all Allen was getting at. But since Pandora flew the coop yesterday afternoon, I'm gonna hafta come clean with the kid soon or later. Pulling into a parking spot at the hospital; it's good timing, saving the conversation from going farther. "Ready?"

Matt stretches and yawns.

"Don't do that," I joke, followed by a face crack of my own.

XXX

She's sitting in the hospital lounger reading a magazine. Looks like somethin' on gardening. Gah! Run away. Anytime she gets her hands on one, my honey- do list grows exponentially. Wearing the fugliest puke green hospital gown and no make up, she's still perfection in my mind. "Hey beautiful lady, what ya doing out o'bed?" I ask handing her a bunch of roses I picked from the gift shop.

"Preserving my spine," she declares rising to meet me with a kiss. I swear what ever moron designs hospital beds deserves a special place in hell." Regarding the posies, "Aww! Thank you. You guys've outdone yourselves."

"Completely Logan's idea, Ma. Only credit I get is talking him out of orchids."

Wrapping her son in a hug, "Well, whatever the choice, I'm impressed." Poor kid flushes bright pink.

"So, they gonna throw ya out o'here, darlin'?"

"They may not, but I am. I can't recoup here. It's too noisy and with nurse goody- two- shoes monitoring me and the babies, I can't sleep."

Tipping her nose with my finger, "I hear ya."

She snaps her teeth, pretending to bite my finger, "How was your night?"

Shaking my head, "Got a couple hours rest."

"Liar. Answer me this. How's the weather back at the ranch?"

Can't help chuckling at the way she phrases stuff and I play along, "Tornado watch in effect."

"That's what I figured."

"Listen Susie, I'm all for springin' ya but not if there's any risk to you or the twins. I can cope if I hafta." Read between the lines, darlin'. I'm out of my league with this medical stuff and ain't got the balls to tell you.

"No doubt, Bright Eyes but I think it'll be easier together."

"You mean so you can babysit me, right?"

"No!" she presses her palm to her chest. "So you can pamper me."

Can't help chuckling again, "B S, little beaver."

"Well, which ever the case Logan, it's at least two days before I can fly home." Turning her attentions to Matt, "Son, I'm seriously thinking you should hook up with your dad. We're only talking a day earlier than originally planned."

Lounging across the bottom of the hospital bed and zoning on the TV, the kid snaps to attention, "Mom, no! Please. I'm cool."

"Matt, you're going to be bored out of your tree."

"Heck no, I won't. Mister Summers and Julia said they'd take me snowmobiling later."

The kid's looking full of himself and declares, "Besides, I told dad I wasn't coming at all." It's false bravado 'cuz I can smell fear and guilt.

Her head snaps up, "You what? Matthew Allen!" Leaning forward, demanding, "Enlighten me on this remarkable development."

"I just told him with you bein' sick and all, I'm staying."

She's bothered and flames me her best what- the- fuck glare.

"New one on me, darlin'," I reply pulling on my t-shirt collar. Gettin' toasty in here. Now, she looks like she sucked a lemon. "Sorry darlin', mind readin's not my game."

Talking to the kid, she asks, "Just when did this come about?

"Last night."

"Well duh! Details dude, details."

"Yes'm. Well, it's like dad called; I guess when you were having the operation or somethin'."

"And he's ok with it?"

"Sorta. Mister Summers talked to him."

"And?" she coaxes, aggravation plastered on her face.

"He just told dad we couldn't get to the plane on time and um, I think he said that you or Logan would call him as soon as you guys could."

"Oh well! Clearly I'm not in a position to fix this right now." Susie goes quiet and if I had x-ray vision, I'd see the wheels turning in her mind. She lets the kid sweat a while before pronouncing decree, "However son, hear this loud and clear. You ARE going as per original agreement…."

"Mom!"

"Chill! If not, it gives your father more leverage to make things extremely ugly."

Deflated, he sighs, "Oh."

"Oh, is putting it mildly." Next, she takes aim at me, "Did you remember to bring my clothes?"

Ok! Not the bullet I'm braced for. "Clothes?" I smack my forehead. "Oh my gosh!"

She launches a plastic spoon in my direction, "I'm going to beat…." She gets I'm raggin' on her. "You brat! Wipe that silly grin off your face."

"Gotcha!" Retrieving the plastic missile, I tap the top of her head with it, "They're in the car, darlin'."

XXX

Plumping pillows and settling into our king sized bed back at the estate, Susie complains, "Good grief! Hasn't even been twelve hours but I feel like a week."

"No shit," I answer, exhaling.

"Now that we can talk, how rough was your night?"

I shrug, "No nightmares, if that's what you're askin'."

"No nightmares because?"

I can't look her in the eye 'cuz she ain't gonna like the answer.

"Logan, it's not something I see very often, but you look whipped."

I do? Imagine that. "I'm ok."

"Uh huh." She pats the bed, "Come 'ere. Settle in and take a snooze."

Thumbing through a sheaf of papers, curiosity's stronger than fatigue. "Mind if take a look at this?"

"What is it?"

"Five years o'my life."

Her brows arch.

"Robert had a copy of my service record."

"Oh my gosh! Logan, that's….that's…fantastic!"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"How can it not be? We thought it'd been completely purged."

"Apparently who ever purged 'em didn't know about this copy or figured it wasn't worth it."

She rests her hands against her hips, "Well!"

"Well what?"

"Lemme see."

"Nosy little broad, ain't ya."

"After all the work we did last summer trying to recover this stuff; bet yer tight buns I'm nosy." Implacable determination softens, "Wait a sec, Bright Eyes. If you don't want me to see it…."

"Nah! That's not it. To tell the truth, I'm….not sure I can handle more shit right now."

"You want me to look at it first?"

Both invites seem just right. I snuggle in beside her and hand over the papers. Before long, her neutral expression gives way to a tentative smile. Curiosity nags at me. Can't help looking over her shoulder.

"Logan, this is impressive."

"What?"

"Two tours in Vietnam. And look at these commendations?" Her voice is a mix of awe and sadness. "I really don't know that much about the Canadian system, but medals for bravery and valor are generally pretty special in any armed force."

Rapping my cranium on the headboard don't loosen any memories.

"Hey genius, get a load of these quals," she lavishes. "Expert Sniper, Mountain Warfare, Urban Ops, Jungle Warfare. Not too shabby on the other stuff either. Oh gee, only basic qual for Jump School?"

I chuckle and shrug, "Never could understand why anybody'd wanna jump out of a perfectly good airplane."

"Hmm. I guess skydiving's not high on your list of must do's," she teases with a glow in her eyes.

"Not for thrills anyway. Fuckin' bites when ya land it wrong, ya know?"

"Ah ha!" she exclaims

"Ah ha?"

"Here's the answer to all those languages you seem to know. Pointing to a line on the page she explains, "Foreign Language School. Completed with honors, I might add."

"Shit!"

"Oh and la-de-da! Certificate of honors for Infantry School as well as Military Intelligence. And here's the coup- de-grace: Bachelor of the Arts, Military and Strategic Studies."

"Nah- ah."

"Uh- huh. Read it." She shoves it in my face, "Right here."

Sonofabitch! It does say that. Well, fuck going back to university next semester. I'll see to it ol' Chuck eats this.

"James Andrew, you ever give me that Homer Simpson d'oh act again…"

WTF Homer Simpson? "Damn! I knew nothin' good was gonna come out of seein' this," I tease.

She swats the papers upside my head. "That's right, the game's over," and continues reading. "Looks like in 'seventy- five you transitioned from Infantry to Intelligence."

"Wish to hell I could remember," I reply shaking my head.

"Me too. The backstory, especially Vietnam, must be amazing."

"More like a major cluster-fuck, darlin'." Don't need memory to know what a bad scene that was.

"You had to have done something right by the commendations you got."

"I guess."

"In 'seventy- six it looks like you re-enlisted and went Counter Intelligence, Middle East Region. Now that surprises me!"

"Why?"

"Not that you'd be counter-intel., but that it's stated so clearly."

"Oh, right. You're used to acronyms like U-Scope or somethin'."

"Well, not exactly. In the U.S. Navy you'd simply be assigned a duty station. 'Course if the station happened to be Langly or the Pentagon, you knew the score."

"Right."

"By the way, what's U-Scope?"

"Buzz for U. S., Canadian Counter-Parahuman Initiative. Forerunner of Weapon X."

"You're joking," she shudders. "Gives me chills just thinking about it."

"I never joke 'bout shit like that." Slinging my arm over her shoulder for comfort, I lose myself in a thought, "Hmm. That weird."

"What?"

"The ID number's different."

"Different from what."

"My ol'dog tags."

"How can that be?"

"Nah. Actually, it's not so weird."

"You're losing me."

"When I signed on with U-Scope, the old me went sayonara. New ID, codename, all kinds o'deep covert shit."

"Logan you're saying that actually joined Weapon X voluntarily?"

"When I joined, it wasn't Weapon X. Believe me, babe, when I figured 'em out I tried to bust out." Leaning back into the pillows, I mutter "I don't wanna go here."

"I think I understand," she replies tenderly. "Hey, I just thought of something. The ID on your record, that's probably your true Canadian ID, right?"

Oh shit! I can smell the excitement coming off her and it ain't from bein' horny. "Uh huh."

"That's awesome. Betcha I could track down more of your past."

"Nuh-uh. No. Nada! And non!"

"Why not?"

"Cuz the last couple times ya did it turned up nothing but a lot o'pain for both of us."

"But…"

"No buts. Let it go. At least for now. Maybe later, when we're home and things settle down, I'll check it out."

She pouts, "Ooohh."

Chucking her chin, "You're cute and transparent. Do me a favor. Please leave it 'til we get home. I'm really at my limit right now."

"Ok. I promise."

My appreciative lips graze hers, "Thanks darlin'."

"Oh gosh, Logan! Speaking of home, I haven't called Allen back. Be a sweetie and bring me the cell phone, please."

Complaining, "Just when I'm settled in all comfortable-like," I roll of the bed in search of her phone. "Ya want me to handle this?"

"Not so much, Bright Eyes. I really don't want another cell phone crunched."

Flashing an impenitent grin, I declare, "I'm hungry. How 'bout I check on lunch?"

"Perfect," she replies with a wink. "Hopefully Allen won't be a problem."

XXX

"Susie…Susan." Kicking the door, "Open up, darlin'. Got my hands full out here."

"Coming." She stifles a groan, Damn! I smell it; she hurtin'. What I'd trade to share my healin' factor with her.

"Careful, it's hot," I warn as she relieves me of a plate of sandwiches balanced on top of bowls of thick bean soup. "You ok, darlin'?"

She rubs her side, "Just a little sore."

We settle around the small tea table adjacent the lounge area. "Oh, that smells great. That hospital breakfast was gross," she says, wrinkling her nose.

I laugh. "How'd it go with the ass….Allen."

"Be nice," she scolds. "For a change he didn't act like a jackass. Everything's all set for Matt to join him like we planned."

"Meaning tomorrow?" I ask between chowing down on corned beef and swiss cheese.

"No Thursday, the twenty ninth."

"Right." Damn! It _has_ been crazy. Losin' track of the date."

She nods, "I know."

Conversation lulls while we satiate our appetites. As sick and hurtin' as she seemed only last night, it does me a world of good to see how a little rest and nourishment puts the sparkle back into her eyes and color in her complexion. I don't scare easy, but ……A chill creeps up my spine recalling her collapsed in my arms. "Susan, remember the other night when I asked ya if you'd still marry me"

"Christmas night?" She barely glances away from her lunch, "Yeah. Why?"

"What would you say to makin' our marriage legal?"

She lets the spoon slide into the bowl. "We can do that?"

"Until the thirty first we can."

Her eyes dance, "I'd say yes. What's significant about the thirty first?"

"Mutant Registration Act."

"Oh, that stupid thing!" The delight suddenly vanishes from her eyes, "Oh Logan, this could be a problem."

I'm sensing a boat load of frustration coming from her. "Like what, darlin'?"

"There are stipulations in my custody and support agreements with Allen."

"Fuck that!" I snarl. Don't blow yer stack Wolverine. Least wise, not at her. Take a deep breath. "What's that slime ball got over ya now?"

"I stand to lose the house for one. Alimony for another, but honestly that's a drop in the bucket. Worst of it, he's got first right of renegotiating custody. With the mood of things, you know he'd jump on it in a New York minute."

"Wait a sec, darlin'. Allen doesn't need to know a damn thing."

"That's dishonest. I've never, ever gone that route and I won't start now."

The hesitation I'm sensing from her don't exactly give me a warm fuzzy. "Susan, what are you saying?"

She sighs, "I'm saying is I've got to consult with Sandra and it might take time."

Slamming my head into a brick wall seems like a good plan at the moment. "Look! I get all your considerations for the boys and I'll never fault ya for it. But I gotta play dirty pool here." Better yet, slam Allen face first into a wall. "What about _our_ children? I know first hand what it's like to be a bastard. If there's a way, then dammit, I'm gonna keep that stigma off 'em."

"Logan, we're in violent agreement but it complicated…."

Her eyes go liquid, reducing me to spam. "What's complicated about lovin' you and doin' the right thing for our kids? Ok, the timing sucks. I'm sorry I didn't know about it sooner."

Her voice is full of entreaty, "No, don't ever be sorry. Your heart's right where it needs to be." She reaches across the table and laces her fingers with mine, "Do you know how much I love and respect you for that?

God! She's the genuine article. Ain't sure I truly deserve all that love and respect she's telegraphin' my direction, but I'll take it. "So, Susan Stryker Harris…," I draw her soft hand to my lips,"…will ya be my _lawful_ wife?

XXX

Massaging between his shoulder blades, "Logan. Hey sleepy head."

He startles, "Huh?"

"It's five o'clock."

"Mmmm. So."

"Matt should be back. Do you mind if we join everybody downstairs for a while?"

He yawns and stretches, "I dunno Susie. After what happened this morning in the pool house, it might not be a good idea."

"Oh no. What now?"

It's plain he doesn't appreciate my sentiments. but I can't stop laughing as he tells me the latest sordid chapter of the Howlett Family Saga. I'd probably feel different if he didn't have a healing factor and sported Frankenstein stitches across his forehead. "Ok. You do what you need to do. Would you mind if I tested the water? If not for our family honor, for Matt's sake."

"You sure you're up to it? I mean, ya just had surgery."

"It's not like I'm trying out for the Olympic swim team."

"I dunno, darlin."

"Logan, everything stiffens up if I don't move around some."

"Ok. Guess I'll dive on in with ya."

"Fair enough. And if it gets too deep we'll backstroke for the shallows."

XXX

"Marvelous, marvelous," Elizabeth exclaims as Logan and I make our entrance into the drawing room.

I can't smell emotions like he can but I can read his face. Furrowed brow, mouth tight and grim; paint his expression one of pained tolerance. At best.

"My prayers are answered. You look very well all things considered," Elizabeth gushes before pecking my cheek with a kiss.

There's no sign the ol' girl's got an axe to grind-- yet. "Thanks Elizabeth," I reply. "Scary as it all seemed, it's fairly quick to recover from."

She continues, "James—Excuse me, Logan. I hope you'll forgive that little misunderstanding this morning."

Stone silent, Logan bee lines straight for a shot of liquid courage. He's such a contrast: An almost mythic hero who's stood up to megalomaniacs bent on subjugating mankind versus the very real man battling familial and personal demons.

"Hey, hey," Robert Eastham cuts in. "We were just talking about you two."

"I guess that's why my ears were burning."

"Only if the talk's disparaging. Now young lady, take this seat right here," Robert charms.

"Sue, ya want something?" Logan asks.

"Club soda, please."

Amazingly, he sounds cordial when asking, "Top off, Robert?"

He crosses the room, taking station beside Logan at the wet bar. "Don't mind if I do. Merci."

Something's up as they converse in low tones. Dag-nabbit! They're speaking French.

Elizabeth's babbling about something or another makes it doubly difficult to split my attention. "…so important that we start over, don't you think Susan?"

"I'm sorry," I reply, reluctantly focusing on my mother in law.

"I said, considering the unpleasantness over the past two days, I think we all need to start over."

"I think the person you need to ask is Logan." That shut her down. From the sour look on her face it's a reasonable guess she's not about to take things on directly with him. Yee ha! It's going to be a _fun_ couple of days. Not.

The men's conversation grows louder and animated as Robert exclaims "Tres bien," which I understand before Logan hands me a goblet of club soda. To be ornery, I ask in Spanish, "What's the big secret?"

Smart aleck answers, "Me to know and you to guess," in Spanish!

"Hey! I thought you didn't do much Espanol?"

"Didn't 'til I figured out I better to keep ahead of you and Electra."

"And you call me nosy! Now come on, what gives?"

"Robert needed to know when we're gonna do this thing 'bout legalizing our marriage."

Elizabeth butts in, "Wonderful. So you've all discussed it and everything's settled. It's been such a joy putting this together for you, son…."

"Liz, darling," Robert pinches his lips between thumb and index finger.

"Oh foo," she waves him off. "I was so afraid the unpleasantness of the past few days were going to hamper things."

Logan casts her a sidelong glance in utter disbelief. Heaving a sigh, he polishes off his drink in a single gulp and pours another.

XXX

"Oh yeah. That was totally out there," Just returning from snow catting, Matt's exuberant voice and Scott's laughter punctuates the uncomfortable silence in the drawing room. "Julia, you can really handle that ol' snow cat."

"You mean for a girl, eh?"

"Aw, no ma'am. For anybody."

A moment later the animated trio burst in. "Perfect timing," Elizabeth interjects. "Scott, Julia help yourselves to brandy. You look positively frozen through. Matthew there's pop—oh excuse me, Susan, the young man's allowed pop, isn't he?"

I nod and hold up my index finger. Matt understands.

She continues to ramble, "Julia, we were just discussing that little item of business of your brother and Susan."

Julia seems to be ignoring her mother and strides to the wet bar, "I am frozen. It's been ages since I took an afternoon and just played like a kid." Turning to Scott, "Brandy, love?"

Leaning against the huge marble fireplace, Logan seems fixated on the flames. Going to his side, "Penny for your thoughts," I murmur and rest my hand on the small of his back.

He sighs. "The whole thing's out o'control, ya know?"

"Time for a break?"

Before he can answer, Elizabeth interrupts, "Speaking of impending nuptials…," She looks expectantly at Scott and Julia, "… you two have wonderful news to share."

"Mother, please."

"None sense Julia Ann. I've been fit to burst with joy since Christmas Eve. Now with your brother poised to make a truly honest woman of Susan…"

Truly honest woman? Excuse me! Who couldn't be bothered to marry the father of two of her children?

Clueless or self-centered, I'm not certain, she bulldozes ahead, "Celebration is in order. Robert, be so kind and open that bottle of Moet."

Really, Mother! This isn't the time. Sue, Logan, mother's way ahead of herself." There's no missing her imploring glare aimed at Scott but he looks surprised by her reaction.

Ever the diplomat, Scott concurs, "Elizabeth, Jule and I, um, thought we'd keep things low key. At least 'til we had a chance to pick out a ring."

For the first time all evening Logan seems to loosen up a tad. Perhaps he's glad focus has shifted away from us. He tilts his head and stares intently at his sister and Scott, those nostrils of his working overtime sorting emotions the rest of us guess at.

On a tangent, it's clear Elizabeth isn't listening, "Yes, yes. I'm well aware of the formalities. Considering those ridiculous laws hanging over your heads, one might assume you and Scott…."

I can't understand the words to Julia's response, but from the tone and the look on her face, it must be a hum-dinger. Elizabeth's lips freeze in mid-verbiage.

Laugh lines quiver around his eyes and mouth. "Touche," Logan mutters between sips of scotch.

Momma-bear shoots back in English, "Impertinence suits you not Julia Ann."

Ooo-wee! That Howlett death glare must be genetic or something.

I spy Robert whispering something to Elizabeth. She seems resistant then abruptly breaks into a smile, "Ja---uh, Logan, have you been to the solarium?"

He shakes his head.

Crossing over to us, inserting herself between and linking arms she says, "Well, I insist you see it."

Logan tenses, wrenches from her grasp and snarls, "What for? Got a firing squad or something?"

Chuckling nervously, she asks, "How could you think of such a thing?" Abruptly her mood softens, "I rediscovered something that I think you'll find rather amusing. The plan was to present it last night with all the other gifts."

He glowers coldly as she reaches to touch him arm. Retreating, she says "Please son, won't you allow me to atone for my errors?"

Now I wish I could read minds or sense emotions. I'm fairly certain Elizabeth is on the up and up; at least as far as she's capable. It's Logan I'm not to sure about.

He finally asks, "What's so amusing?"

"Come. See. I promise---I think you'll be pleased."

I hear Scott whisper something and Matt snicker.

"Ouch!" Scott exclaims.

Julia punches his arm, "Don't say one word," she warns.

If Logan's picking up on their conversation, and it's impossible to believe he isn't, he's ignoring them. Creased brow, hooded eyes, arms crossed over his chest, his posturing makes me want to crawl under the nearest rock.

We traipse behind Elizabeth and Robert to the southwestern corner of the mansion. He sucks in a not so quiet breath, testing emotions, I suppose. It must be instinctive; his arms seem tense; prepped for rapid claw deployment. Extending my hand, he fists, deflecting my gesture of support. Silently, I pray, Please God, let this little amusement actually _be amusing_ to my husband.

Pausing, I guess for dramatic effect, Elizabeth throws open immense, shear curtained, double, paned glass doors, revealing a huge, airy, casual setting dominated by a massive, elaborately decorated conifer, "Joyeux Noel, fils!"

With what I'd classify as a practiced fuck-off-who-gives a shit declaration, Logan snorts.

We collectively gasp as our eyes fall upon the surprise. Set up to the left of the tree is an enormous, detailed model railroad and village.

"Way cool," my son gushes.

Standing there, shaking his head, unguarded wonderment creeps over Logan's features, not unlike his expression on seeing the twins on sonogram.

"You got that right." Making restrained eye contact with his mother for the first time, his voice trips, "I can't believe you kept this all these years."

Phew! Can I breathe now?

Elizabeth replies, "I have the reputation as a bit of a pack rat," and gently pushes him toward it. "Besides, this is one of the few good links I have to your father."

"You mean Tom?"

She nods.

Walking slowly around it, pointing out miniature houses, realistic trees, exquisitely whittled people and livestock figurines to anyone paying attention, "See this?" He gently fingers a tiny hockey rink, complete with a diminutive team, "I threw a fit for weeks to have it put in."

An intense, secret expression flashes over his face. No, no! Please not a bad memory. Not now.

"Geeze, I remember!" Brightening, "I must have four or five. Even got Kai to bug the daylights out of everybody." Again, a shadow casts over his delight. "What ever happened to Kai?" he asks Elizabeth.

"I honestly don't know."

Continuing his tour of the model railroad, he points to a slightly lopsided structure, "Oh this is great! I carved it."

"What is it?" Matt asks.

"Can't ya tell, dude? A ski lodge."

"I remember," Elizabeth laughs, "when you made it. And I remember the four stitches in your thumb."

"Don't remember that."

"James had an amazing ability to consistently mangle himself right before a recital."

"As in piano recital?" I question.

Try as he might, Scott can't stifle a laugh, "I've got an image in my mind…"

"And ya can keep it to y'self, bub," Logan warns but his expression doesn't match his threatening tone.

Pointing toward a group of meticulously crafted houses, "But I do remember those." Gingerly holding it up, is that nostalgia I see in his expression? "Tom spent hours on 'em. Kai and I loved to watch." Logan seems awed, "I never realized how talented he was."

"Like father like son," I add. "I haven't told y'all about the cradle Logan built for the twins." Logan flashes an uneasy grimace and for a second I'm afraid I crossed an unspoken line.

Scott probably didn't catch Logan's disconcerted expression and asks, "Is that what he was doing in the woodshop back at School all these weeks?"

"Nah Cyke. I was…" He starts to make a gesture involving a portion of his anatomy. Considering the company, thankfully he reconsiders.

"Hey Logan," Matt asks, "do the trains work?"

Logan glances at Elizabeth who defers to Scott and Julia.

"Scott and I did a test run on Christmas Eve," Julia assures.

"My men reply with a jubilant, "Awesome!"

"Excellent," Elizabeth declares. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to check with Phillip. Perhaps supper in here might suit best."

"I'll join you, my dear," Robert says. "Leave the youngsters to their toys."

Just before exiting, Elizabeth lectures, "Gentlemen, running the trains is acceptable but," she stares directly at her son, "Crashing the trains is not."

"Busted!" Scott quips.

Even on his best behavior, copping a look of innocence just isn't Logan and a naughty grin spreads across his face. "Busted," he agrees.

"What's that about?" I beg, settling into a nearby cushioned wicker chaise settee with a hushed grunt.

"Nothin'," he replies fiddling with the power boxes and casting a worried glance at me.

"I'm ok. Incisions are just a little sore."

Julia cuts in, "Are you certain? Can we get you something?"

"Thanks so much but I'm perfect as long as I get off my feet. Now come on, somebody spill this train wreck gossip."

"It seems my big brother and his friends…"

"Hey, it was mostly John Paul," Logan defends.

"Sorry brother! I only know what mother's told me. Any way Sue, whomever it was liked to get the trains going around the tracks so fast they'd de-rail."

"Why am I not surprised," I giggle.

To Logan, she elaborates, "Mother says you destroyed two complete sets one holiday."

He looks insufferably pleased with himself. "Probably true." He laughs, "But ya should o'seen the head-on JP and I staged."

"And of course," I inject, "just like that indoor tennis ball hockey mishap, it was all JP's idea."

"Well—yeah!" Logan replies. Eyes gleaming, an undiluted smile plastered on his face, he sets the trains to full throttle.

XXX

Footnote: My fears are as good prophets as my hopes. H.D. Thoreau Journal, 19 March 1842. The Penguin Dictionary of Epigrams

Authors Note: The story's winding down with about two chapters remaining. Here's a question for y'all. Would you like another story? Message me with your opinion. And hey, feedback has been sparse, save for the usual suspects. Please grace me with your thoughts and criticisms. -MLC


	40. Chapter 40

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

We haven't been asleep more than an hour, well make that him. Heartburn and a soccer match in my belly keep me in that zone between wakeful and dozing.

Logan's flat on his back, his right arm drapes over his eyes and he sounds like a revved up chainsaw. Despite model trains, good memories and passable interaction with Elizabeth, he still consumed vast quantities of alcohol; no doubt contributing to his ease in slumber; or would that be passed out?

It's so unfair! I'd give a minor fortune for a couple glasses of wine, a heartburn free night, to sleep flat on my stomach.

Unfair or not, I let my frustrations loose as we turned in for the night. "Are you planning on spending the next twenty four hours marinating in booze?"

"Excuse me!" he replied.

"I won't excuse you. It's too much."

Glaring sourly, he stripped off his clothes, left them in a heap on the floor and retreated to the bathroom. Oh that's just about right! Dump your duds all over the place 'cuz you how much it pisses me off. Let's see; his Neanderthal imitation should be next.

Emerging a few minutes later, grunting and scratching himself, he declared, "I don't need this shit."

If I had a dollar for every time he goes caveman, I'd do better than my stock broker! "I surely don't, either." Pulling the covers up to my chin, I griped, "And you don't have to get all snarky on me."

Crawling into his side of the bed, he growled, "Then back off."

With a harrumph, I switched off the bedside lamp.

Silence followed. A few minutes later, he switched the lamp on and sat up. Warm fingers fondled my hair, "Susie?" He sounded oddly hesitant. "Listen darlin', I'm—sorry. I'm working through a lotta shit; make that we, but… I need …. space."

Still set on making my point, I didn't hesitate with a rebuttal. "I get that, but it's the alcohol. If it weren't for your healing factor you'd be a raging alcoholic."

He clapped his hands. "Score a point for the good doctor!" Sarcasm spiked each word.

Tossing my hands up, I returned fire, "Don't be a jackass. You know I'm right."

Paint a target on my forehead! The Wolverine death glare burned a hole into my brain. Propped against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest, he was coiled to strike, "Yeah, you're right. Blissfully so. Happy now?"

Good grief! No, I'm not happy. I felt like a first class bitch stooping to name calling. But sometimes…Oh, never mind. "Logan, I'm sorry. A fight is the last thing we need."

His expression mellowed, "Just give it a rest."

He sounded beaten and that made me feel worse. I smoothed my palm against his stubbly cheek, "I'm so sorry I insisted on this trip."

He draped his arms around my shoulders, "Not your fault. You know I wanted something good to come from it, too. Sometimes it just ain't to be."

Sniffling into his shoulder I replied, "I guess."

Silence reigned and then he mused, "She's really all over the place, ain't she?"

"Who? You're mother?"

I felt his head nod.

"That's rapid cycling bi-polar for you. Stress exacerbates it."

"Tell me 'bout it. Ya know, Sue, I look at her and I see me."

"Oh no. I don't. Well, maybe that temper." Chilled, I snuggled closer and added, "Julia seems to have the same short fuse."

His brown eyes narrowed, his smile, humorless, "Temper doesn't come any where close to describing what I…"

I touched his lips with my finger, "You're comparing apples and oranges. Bi-polar and PTSD are very different conditions. What I'm saying is when you have an emotional reaction there's a damn good reason for it. For Elizabeth, it simply happens and sometimes her reaction isn't even appropriate for the circumstance."

He didn't look convinced and his reply, "Maybe," sounded tepid.

"No maybe about it. This evening's a perfect case study. In the span of a few minutes I watched her run a gamut of emotions; inappropriately manipulate conversations, bait you and your sister. By the way, who bit? Not you."

He chuckled but there was no light in his eyes.

"Oh gosh! This hasn't got anything to do with your mother and all, but did Charles ever call back about the mess with Wendy?"

He groaned and muttered, "Shit!" Stretching his arms over his head, he became silent.

Damn him and the silent treatment. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"It's deep but that's another story," I joked hoping to finagle his mood. I'm going to hafta cajole the details out piece meal. "Did Charles call?"

"Yep."

"Is everything ok?"

"Far as I can tell."

"Oh come on! What happened? Did someone try to snatch Wendy again?"

"Again?"

"Yeah. That's what the police report chalked it up to."

"Thought you said sexual assault?"

"That was secondary, if I remember right."

"Damn! I need to see it when we get back."

"Doubtful Logan. She's a minor and it'll be sealed."

He sighed.

"Hey stinker, you never really answered my question."

"Which one was that?"

"Grrrr!" I smacked him with a pillow and enunciated every syllable, "Was.. there.. an-o-ther.. ab-duc-tion.. at-tempt.. made?"

"Ok, ok!" He yanked the pillow away and hugged it close to himself. "Have mercy woman." His fingers dug into the pillow as he exhaled, "I'm still tryin' to get my head around this…."

"What? Don't tell me…. her mother….What's_ that_ woman want?"

He dipped his head and snorted. That gesture in itself spoke volumes.

Quick, somebody take my blood pressure. I've got no issues with Wendy; she's a sweetheart. If her budding mutations come to fruition like Hank's testing indicated, Xavier's school is going to be the best place for her. Her mother, on the other hand—I don't like her nor do I trust her and I don't want her anywhere near my husband.

Who am I kidding, though? Wendy Jennings enrolls and….And I thought Allen's wife and their little princesses were a thorn in my side. At least they live across town.

He sat up, dropped the pillow, scrubbed his face with his palms, and leveled, "Somebody from Weapon X wants the kid."

Hold your horses, cowboy! That's not what I expected him to say. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"That's not funny, Logan."

"Ain't joking."

Crud bunnies! He isn't. "I thought whatever remained of Weapon X is at the bottom of Alkali Lake."

"Only one division. Marla was involved with Replications…."

I interrupted, "What the dickens is that?"

"Genetic research."

"Right. That's her Ph.D.; genetics. Is it this Replications that's interested in Wendy?"

"Sounds like it."

"Why'd she call Charles?"

"She didn't. She called me. But since we weren't there…."

"And Charles thought it serious enough."

"Yep."

"Why would…Oh my God! I'm conjuring up a mess of ugly possibilities."

With a no- shit expression he assented, "Uh huh."

"What are we going to do?"

"**_We_** are gonna to do nothing. When we get back, **_I'm_** gonna have a little chat with her and figure out just what the fucks's going down."

"Logan, what if she's neck deep with them? She could lead them right to our doorstep!"

"Yeah, she could, but Charles didn't sense it."

"He's not infallible. What's your gut tell you?"

He stared past me and shook his head, "Dunno know, darlin'."

Every instinct told me he's not telling the whole story but he pulled me close, "Can't do squat about it right now. Let's get some sleep."

I sighed, frustrated over yet another batch of complications stirred into the mix. He's right about one thing. We **can't** do squat; for now. "Love you Bright Eyes."

He added the pillow missile to my stack, plumping it for me, "Love ya, too." He smooched my cheek, switched off the light and nestled into the downy mattress. Tangling his fingers in mine, he shielded his eyes with his right arm and conked out in minutes.

No fair! I wanna feel as comfy as he looks; put stuff out of my mind as easily. I yawned and counted baby kicks trying to get my mind off Marla Jennings and creeping, cold dread.

XXX

Snorting and twitching, he jolts me from the edge of slumber. Dammit!

I just settle back when he flails about muttering gibberish. One knee bends, tenting the covers, leaving me short-sheeted.

I yank a section of blanket back, "Knock it off," I whisper.

He responds with a groan, "Hurts," and curls protectively around a pillow.

Poor baby! Propping myself on an elbow, ruffling his shower damp hair, I coo, "Logan."

He sighs and relaxes the stranglehold on the pillow but he's still curled into himself like he's got a belly ache or something.

He's facing away from me so I rub his shoulders, "It's ok. Sshh. Let it go."

Moments later, I find myself dodging his left arm as he flings it across the bed. Now, he's flat on his back, rocking his head from side to side. Whines of, "Pain! Why? Stop! Uhh. No. Help," are intermingled with grunts and moans.

I should have known. He hasn't put anything to rest in his mind. I think a nightmare's bearing down on him like a freight train. Afraid how this might turn out, I switch on the bedside lamp.

His eyes dart a mile a minute beneath shuttered lids. He's flushed and beads of perspiration well up like raindrops on his upper lip and brow. Longer strands of raven hair curl while shorter strands either stick straight up or plaster against his forehead.

Yep. A nightmare for sure and I'm guessing it's a doozy.

His limbs convulse, his back arches, alternately tangling and tossing the covers. There's a tell-tale blue shadow underneath his knuckles.

God help me! He's warned me more than once to get the hell away from him if he ever…this is the ever he means.

Lightning fast he sits up. His eyes, dilated blackened orbs, stare unfocused and then blink. His expression grows predatory and dire. Baring sharp canines he lets loose with a ferocious snarl. "Kill you… motherfucker." Claws spring from his knuckles and geyser of crimson shoots skyward as he drives all six claws into the mattress and his left thigh.

I scream, wrenching myself out of harms way. He's caught the edge of my nightgown. Stumbling, I wrap my arms around my belly, sheltering our unborn children and nearly fall flat on my face. His blood rains down, soaks into my gown with vengeance, sears where it touches flesh. The reek of copper, bitter in my nostrils; defiles everything it touches.

Ejecting himself from the bed, he lands in a crouch. Scarlet tipped claws spike the floor for balance. Eyes downcast, his brows knit together as one. I think I can hear his jaw or teeth grate together. His mouth is thin and bloodless as he gnaws his lower lip and exhales a wheeze of pain. The color and rate of blood gushing from three gaping wounds portends severe damage to his femoral veins.

Dear God! Can he bleed out? Supposedly not, but damn if I want to test the assumption.

Rising to his full six foot three height, assessing his surroundings with unfathomable eyes, it seems he's not fazed by venous hemorrhaging.

"Logan."

A throaty growl is his answer. Logan is gone; consumed by inner demons. In his place, lurks a soulless, bestial savage. This is the mythical, feral Wolverine; A man made into killing machine.

His face is hard and haggard. His arm muscles are solid rocks; abdominals rigid as the adamantium encasing his bones. Stress arousal radiates throughout his body. Even his genitals tent the boxers he wears. His nostrils flare, puffing like a bull having just run the gauntlet in Pamploma.

Suddenly, he's all specifically directed action. Breath ragged, his growls are punctuated with, "No…can't stop….kill …" Claws deployed, any thing in his path is in peril. A marble table top splits and a crystal vase shatters on the floor. A rosewood dresser splinters; knick knacks scatter, reduced to trash.

A juggernaut moves with stealth precision in my direction and there's no protection curled up on this couch. I need to get away now but it's a long way to the door. My heart's about to burst through my chest. Clutching rock hard belly I know fear's making my uterus contract.

"Logan. It's me. Please," I plead and inch my way toward safety. I've seen him in the Danger Room and I know how fast he moves. Coupled with the claws, if I am his target, I'm already dead.

No! This can't be real. I'm lost in a nightmare. That's it. I'll wake up any second. Maybe I'll scream and then he'll wake up; take me into his arms make it all go away.

A foot or two from the door, I gasp, biting back the urge to cry. I've tread on something. It's sharp and I stumble backward.

He stops. Raising his chin and cocking his head, he sniffs. Does he smell my pain? My fear? Steely, cold eyes pierce me, their brightness only outshone by gleaming adamantium daggers.

God help me. I am his prey! My brain demands flight but my body can't obey. I can't hear for the blood rushing ice cold through my veins. I can't force oxygen into my lungs. My head swims and sparkles of light dance in my vision. Hold on, Susan. Faint now and it's over.

His lips curl into an anticipatory leer. His arousal remains obvious. Oh God, maybe murder's not his intent. Shivers of revulsion raise goose bumps and twist my stomach.

"Logan. Don't do this."

His eyes seem wide, alert but there's no sign he comprehends my plea.

Three feet away, his pace is precise, fleet though time is molasses to my mind. I'm crabbing on all fours in a futile effort for time and space. "Dear God, if this is your plan…" He's two feet away.

He towers over me, all six claws bearing down. Covering my face with my hands, he's so close his hot breath is like a blast furnace against my epidermis. "…please let me die quickly."

An ominous, canine howl echoes throughout the room.

With crossed arms, shielding our children in utero, I curl into a defensive doughnut and wail, "Noooo!"

XXX

**Authors Note**: Does he or doesn't he? Terrible place to leave off, isn't it? Believe it or not up until 12-6 driving to work, I hadn't decided what was going to happen next. Here's a different twist; for those of you interested send your critique of course, but also tell me what you'd think should happen.

Big thanks to my mentor/beta Rhia for continuing agitation. She keeps telling me to think outside the box (among many other prods).


	41. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR**

A cold draft puckers my butt cheeks, sends goose bumps up my spine. Susie's short-sheeted me. "Knock it off," breaks my somnolence. Must be snoring? Grunting, I roll onto my side, mutter, "Sorry," and drift again with the warm tide of slumber.

She calls my name and I grunt, "Huh?"

I'm wide awake. Fear, thick enough to taste, sticks in my throat. What the fuck?

Turning toward her, raising up on one elbow, I see she's curled in fetal position protectively hugging her belly. I hear moans and mewling. Her breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

Jesus Christ! What the hell's wrong? She sick again? In pain? Is something going on with the twins? Don't need a repeat of the other night. Get hold of yourself fool! Ain't smelling any pain.

"Susie, darlin'." Damn! Poor kid's half frozen.

Beneath my touch, she shivers but not from cold. Her hair's tangled and strewn over the pillow. Her nightgown clings like a second skin accentuating her swollen belly.

It kills me to see her like this and I feel responsible. Tucking covers around her I croon, "Come on. Wake up, darlin', it's just a dream." To ease her fear, I massage her shoulders and back.

She grabs the blankets tight around her and cries out; something between a whimper and a screech.

This has got to stop. I switch the lamp on and shake her. "Susan!"

Blue eyes dart back and forth, unseeing, staring through me. Tears glisten on lush lashes. Clenched fingers tear at the blanket. Voice pitching hysterical, she wails, "Logan. It's me. Please. Don't do this."

Oh for fuck's sake, this is out of control! She's having a nightmare about me.

Shielding her face with her hands, she pleads, "Dear God…please…let me die… quickly."

Out of the blue, she screams, setting my nerves and eardrum buzzing. Thrashing around as if caught in a seizure, she lurches away from me and I grab desperately, snagging the hem of her nightdress and pulling her back before she pitches to the floor

She wails, "Noooo!" and folds into herself.

I scoop her into my arms, "Baby, wake up, please. I'll never hurt ya."

She doesn't hear and struggles against me. I grasp her chin and force her to face me, "Susan!"

The sour scent of fear gives way to sulfuric survival instinct. She goes ballistic, howling like a banshee. Fists pound my face and chest. Survival instinct beats fear hands down in my playbook and since she can't hurt me I let her go for it.

That onyx ring of hers meets with my upper lip and I taste salty copper. No worries, but as fingernails gouge a stinging channel across my cheek and down my neck I'm thinking it's time for a tactical re-evaluation.

I wrap her tight against my chest, effectively pinning her arms. She wriggles and I feel the pressure of teeth against my chest. Bracing for the chomp; man, she is beyond outer space!

She gasps and the fire's gone. The light reflected in her timid eyes tells me she's achieved re-entry and I relax my embrace.

Delicate fingers hesitantly trace the path of blood from the wounds she inflicted. Tears spill, choking her voice, "Logan! What have I done?"

"Nothin'," I console. "I'm ok, darlin'."

She smells of despair and sorrow. It ain't a second before low, tortured sobs rack her little body.

My arms encircle her, rocking her like a child. "It's ok. Just a bad dream. I love you," I murmur, pressing kisses into her golden tresses. I wish I had the power to repress her misery.

Sobs give way to hiccups and I lift her chin. Her face and my chest are smeared with salty tears and what she'd refer to as rhinorrhea

She peers at me with puffy, blood shot eyes and whispers, "I'm a mess."

Nodding, I reply, "Uh huh." Snot ball or not, you're still my beautiful darlin'.

She touches my face once more, "Thank heaven, you're healed." More tears breach the dam. "I…I'm so sorry."

"Ssshh. You've got no reason to be. That was a mother of a nightmare."

"B-but…I hurt you."

"Nah!" A couple scratches and a busted lip're nothing. Pain's realizing that she might be afraid of me. I'd let her ol' man bond my bones ten times over if it guaranteed she'd never fear me. After tearing things up the other day, I'm not so sure.

I reach for a tissue and blot her face. "Wanna tell me about it?"

A protracted sigh breezes past her lips, "I dunno."

Eyes crinkled, she nibbles her lower lip and shivers. Fear still radiates from her though it ain't the powerful stuff from before. She ain't ready to talk and maybe I ain't ready to hear what she might say.

A deep breath doesn't steady her voice, "It's bizarre…so….real…I dreamed you were having a nightmare; the worst I'd ever seen. I thought you were go--…."

Bam! Bam! Bam! The door rattles on its hinges. "Mom!"

"What the hells going on in there?" booms a deeper voice.

Could've seen this coming; it's Matt and Scott. Fuck it all! The last thing we need's an audience. "We're good. Susie just had a bad dream." No way should the kid see his mother like this. As for Sergeant Snoopy, just go away and mind your own fuckin' business.

No surprise, Matt opens the door anyway. In his shoes, I'd do the same though I'd probably break the fuckin' door down.

A familiar scent drifts through the door; li'l sis hanging behind the rescue party. Bet it won't be long before we've got mama bear and her sugar daddy scoping the scene. A regular packed house; somebody sell tickets.

Summers, hand to visor and assuming the blast Wolverine to shit position, looks like he's got a killer migraine. Mentally, I flinch. Been on the receiving end and it ain't no trip to Vegas.

"Ain't what yer thinkin', Cyke," I snarl. "Stand down,"

From his scent, he doesn't believe me but drops his arm anyway.

I take a good look at him; more to the point, what he's wearing. Taking every ounce of self control I got to keep from bustin' a gut laughing, I sneer, "Didn't ya know Viagra causes headaches, bub?"

"Mom?" Matt, a mix of bewilderment, panic and predictable fury, (fairly aimed at me, no doubt) sprints across the room.

"It's ok," Susan assures and pulls him into a hug.

Matt breaks free. "Logan, what happened?" Fury peters out to more confusion.

"Cut myself shavin'."

"Huh?" the kid replies.

Red faced, Scott rakes me over. Dislike and embarrassment war with curiosity.

Sharp as a bowling ball, I think he got the Viagra comment.

Susie turns scarlet, burying her face in her hands, "Please everybody, I'm fine. Logan's fine."

Graceful under the gun—again, Susie pulls herself together, takes Matt's hands and hushes him before delivering to Scott and Julia, "There's no emergency. I simply had a nightmare and with all y'all standing here I feel really stupid. Now please, just go on back to bed."

Julia closes the gap and tangles her arm in Scotts. Her eyes fall on Susie and I sense confusion and sympathy. Then she takes a gander at me and her brown eyes darken like thunderclouds. Hey princess, I ain't the bad guy this time.

"Ya heard my wife!" I'm about to tell them to take a long walk off a short pier but I check myself. "Everything's under control."

Carbon copy of shared maternal heritage, Julia snips, "Quite," and yanks Scotts arm. Can't help thinking she's got a choker collar on the pup already.

After protracted silence, he shrugs and retreats a few paces stinking of skepticism.

Susie doesn't miss his wary demeanor and responds, "Yes Scott, once in a blue moon I get nightmares too." Her patronizing tone's tame compared to the annoyance and humiliation leaching off her.

Can't help twisting the knife, "Time to put Rudy away."

He catches it, flushes and stammers, "Uh! Well…right. You guys sure everything's ok?"

Susie swallows a giggle, and replies with a pithy, "Positive. Now goodnight, y'all."

Matt hangs back but it's no problem. Ain't sweeping anything under the carpet on him. Susie and I say, "Close the door," at the same time. We launch into tag team explanations 'til the kid's sick of us.

Just before exiting, he asks, "Hey mom, do ya think it would be ok if I caught up with Dad tomorrow instead of Thursday?"

She replies, "I know where you're coming from. How 'bout we discuss it tomorrow morning?"

The kid nods and is gone.

"Aarrgghh! What a zoo!" she declares, dropping heavily onto the bed.

"Looney bin, zoo, whatever," I agree. "Speakin' of zoos, did ya get a load of Rudolph?"

She breaks into a wide grin, "Oh my gosh! Did I ever. Where do you think he got a pair of 'jama pants with Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer…" gesturing south, "…especially there?"

We both snicker like school kids. "Three guesses and the first two don't count," I offer.

"Julia," we deduce simultaneously and fall back into our pillows laughing our collective asses off.

"Oh, that's too much," she sighs and snuggles against me.

"You got that," I answer, wiping my eyes. "Don't you ever…"

She cuts me off, "Wouldn't dare…." Then she teases, "Smiley faces, maybe."

Forming my thumb and index finger into a pistol and placing in against my temple, "I'll just kill myself now!" I say before pulling the trigger.

"Please don't," she laughs. "Makes a mess and I rather like having you around."

"Glad to know it, darlin'. And I'll stay as long as ya keep the fashion police outta my underwear drawer."

"Deal," she replies and plants a wet kiss on me.

Things go quiet and my mind drifts. "Sue, what was the dream about?"

"Oh Logan, just forget it. I have."

"How come I still smell fear?"

"Do not."

"Do too," I say, lifting her chin with my finger. "My nose don't lie."

"Oh fine. Yes, it was scary but…"

"You're afraid of me."

"What? No! No way, Logan."

Well hell! She **is** afraid of something and she's holding back big time.

"Listen to me," she continues. "You're a bloodhound when it comes to nosing out emotions but I'm not afraid of you…"

"What then?"

She sighs and knits her brow. "I don't exactly know how to explain… Dammit!... I don't… want this to come out…wrong."

"Spill it Susan."

"With all the craziness lately, how you tore up that portrait and the cemetery; I guess my subconscious ran away with itself. Sometimes anesthesia and pain meds can do that…"

Here we go! Quit with the doctor stuff already. I can smell the truth and I gotta hear it no matter how much it's gonna cut.

"…I'm not so much afraid of you…. I think I'm afraid of pushing your limits and what you're capable of if that happens."

There it is. Diplomatically put, but... Aw, damn it to hell! Afraid of what I can do is the same thing as being afraid of me.

She looks at me funny and says, "You don't believe me, do you?"

I can't look her in the eye.

"Logan?" She touches my face, "Trust your senses."

I'm trying. She's being real. Guess everything hasn't quite gone to hell in a hand basket yet. "Susan, I made a promise to you and Matt…" I pointed to the couch, "…sitting right over there. I swore I'd never hurt either of you."

"Yes you did and if I didn't believe you with all my heart I wouldn't be with you right now…"

She's got a very good point and I'm not smelling the same fear from before. Wait a sec. All of a sudden I'm getting some mighty interesting signals.

Warm, soft fingers glide over my chest, "…Nor would I want you to..," Her sweet warm breath tickles my ear as she nibbles and whispers, "…make love to me."

I sigh, draw back and peer into her baby blues, "Darlin', should we be doin' this? I mean, ya got stitches 'r somethin'."

Her hands slither down my belly, "I'm fine as long as we're careful." She tickles my abs and teases my navel. "I need you to be…" she purrs and slips her hand beneath the waistband of my flannels, "…my gentle lover tonight."

Can't say she hasn't piqued my interest and in a few unobstructed tender strokes she's got my undivided attention.

I pull her mouth to mine and taste her lips. She nibbles back and soon our tongues are rocking and rolling.

Nightclothes peel away. She's touching me and I'm touching her. Her scent, the way her body moves, the heat tells me she's ready.

Been a couple nights and I'm more than ready. She knows it too by the way she's alternating the rhythm of her strokes. Hell! I'm okay with this if it means I won't hurt her.

Our communication's as close to psychic as lovers can get right now. By instinct or magic we join. It doesn't take either of us long but it's beautiful; a connection almost sacred. Probably the closest thing to a religious experience my depraved spirit will ever experience.

Separate once more, she's pretzels her legs with mine while tickling her toes along my calf muscles. Her arm's draped across my chest and she presses her belly into my side.

"Ouch!" she complains and shifts as the twins wiggle and kick up a ruckus.

"Sorry."

"Not you're fault," she whispers. "Wait a sec. It **is** all your fault."

I can't keep a sly grin off my face, "Better believe it, darlin'."

We both yawn and I feel her breath go even and deep. "How do ya deal with it all?" I murmur.

"Hmmm?"

"Nothin'. Go to sleep."

She cracks an eye and raises her head from my chest, "Deal with what?"

"Everything. Being pregnant with twins? Putting up with my shit."

"Because," she kisses the tip of my nose, "I love you."

She settles back and it's not long before she's snoring softly in my arms, a tiny trickle of drool forms on my chest. The twins continue protest marching. Concentrating, I can make out their galloping heartbeats.

xXx

My body's in neutral but the mind's locked in turbo. I'm a fucked up wanna be drunk. She's a lady. I'm a killer and she's a healer. Got enough baggage to sink the Titantic, yet she keeps me afloat. How the hell did an undeserving bastard like me catch and hold on to an angel like her?

Truth of it is she caught me. Go figure? After decades spent avoiding attachment and existing on meaningless fuckin', in she walks and bam; cast a spell over me with subtle sensuality.

Next, she's got control; reintroducing me to the different flavors of sex. No, making love. Four alarm, all-out fuckin' lust; spicy and playful; sweet and slow comfortable screw. And just now; as mellow, comforting and satisfying as fine brandy.

Ain't just sex, though. What broke my defenses and captured my heart is her unyielding integrity and genuine loving kindness.

Aw shut the fuck up, Wolverine. You sound like a cross between the Galloping Gourmet and Dr. Ruth. Yeah, well so what? Between me, her and the sheets, nobody'll ever know.

Despite every fiber in me wanting to, why's it so damned hard to accept love at face value? Stupid question. Paranoia, a sneaky, poisonous bastard, taints every molecule in me.

I need her so bad I can't imagine life without her. Scares the shit out of me just thinking it and it's a disaster in the making. Anyone, everything that's ever meant anything to me ends up fucked all to hell.

Right now though, after loving her, I can almost beat the paranoia back. It's a never ending fight but this round's mine.

We survived the showdown over her ol' man; we shovel through the crap of my past, including the spectacular show I put on the other day. She puts up with more garbage than any woman should. And she's still here!

She sighs as I brush strand of honey colored hair from her face. "Je t'aime, darlin'," I whisper and press my lips to her forehead. "Je t'aime plus qu'hier, moins que demain ." But is love gonna be enough?

xxx

I love you more than yesterday, less than tomorrow.

xXx

Bzzzzt! Bip, bip! Bzzzt! Electronic tones douse our exquisite afterglow. It takes a second for my brain to clear enough to identify the offending insect.

Goddammit! It's fuckin' two am. I was almost asleep.

Groaning and extracting myself from her clutch, I fumble through the contents of the bedside table.

There is goes again. Shit! It's on the dresser.

Tucking the blankets around her I shuffle across the distance. The room's chilly and the loss of our combined heat raises goose bumps in places I didn't know I could get them.

This had better be really good. Probably is, being the tones are one step below the Team version of nine-one-one. I grab for the damn thing just as it sets to vibrate once more.

"Yeah! I'm here," comes out in a low growl reflecting both irritation at Charles' piss poor timing and desire not to wake Susie.

I hear his precise diction and duly note a lack of pleasantries, "We have a situation."

Adrenalin kicks in chasing away the fog of sex and sleep. "Kay. Lemme pull some pants on and find a place to talk." Now the goose bumps ain't from the chill but from anticipation. Gotta job to do.

The End

_Authors Note: So many plot bunnies remaining. Some will be solved soon. Other's, like real life, are ongoing. A sequel is forthcoming. Faithful readers, this has been a two year journey of sweat, tears, frustration, euphoria, self-doubt and so many other emotions. I'm beyond grateful for the support of so many. First, my family for putting up with a severely neglected home and my absent mind. I'd be remiss if I didn't recognize the lady who convinced me to try fan fiction, Madame Dreamweaver. Of incalculable value and someone who's become kin, is Rhiannon UK. She's been a mentor, a teacher, a taskmaster, and the best sounding board on the planet. Joegood and RowenaDeVandal share the stage for support and inspiration. Everyone who's ever commented positive, critical or neutral, I've hung on every comment and took it to heart. A great big THANK YOU to all. MidLifeCrisis._


End file.
